


Lipedus

by starseeker95



Series: Lab Partners [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Broken Spark Bond, Dead Sparkling, Enjoy the pain of the series, Graphic, M/M, Mech Preg, Miscarriage, Painful Sex, Post-Mortem Dissection, Rough Sex, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Sacrifice, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, This is my angst dump, Unrequited Love, anyway, aren't all my fics this way???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 21,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starseeker95/pseuds/starseeker95
Summary: Brainstorm keeps a deadly secret. Perceptor will go to any lengths to fix things.





	1. Chapter 1

_Preface_

_Perceptor never dreamed that he would stoop to this._

_But Rodimus was watching him, waiting for him to make a move. The prime’s field was quiet as it pushed gentle waves against the scientist’s plating. The sensation reminded Perceptor of spilled energon, lapping at him mercilessly as it did in his dreams-_

_“You don’t have to do this, Percy. I can take it away and things can stay the way they are. I just wanted to give you the option.”_

_“I… appreciate it. I just…”_

_A gentle hand lifted to rest on the microscope’s trembling shoulder as Perceptor dragged in a shaky vent. Rodimus’ optics were soft with understanding. “None of them will ever know. I know that you can calibrate this thing correctly-“_

_“I hope that I am capable.”_

_Perceptor didn’t want to touch it at all. It didn’t belong to him, or to the prime who’d given it to him. But at the same time, the scientist knew that he had no other choice. He reached forward only to pull back a moment later as he heard an airlock open in the next room. Another sound came through, a sound that nearly broke Perceptor’s spark: a soft sob that he recognized as Chromedome’s just outside the door. He was quickly hushed by another bot closeby._

_A klik or two later, the airlock door closed. Rodimus stiffened at the sound before he hung his helm._

_Perceptor moved and took the time case into his hands. He had much work to do. ___


	2. Chapter 2

Primus, his valve ached.

Brainstorm swallowed heavily and squirmed on his stool, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. But every time he moved, darts of pain shot through his helm, reminding him that it was far past time to rest his optics. The screen wavered in front of him as he moved to stand.

Perceptor’s station was still empty and likely would be for a while yet. The other mech had to be exhausted. After all, he worked all the time as it was. Not to mention the mind-blowing overload he’d achieved the nightcycle before. 

The jet allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk at the thought, but it was quickly overshadowed by a wince. His valve really had taken a beating. Maybe he should see Ratchet-

The door into their shared lab slid open and a slightly ruffled Perceptor entered the room. Brainstorm was tempted to call a good morning, but thought better of it. Familiarity and teasing had never gotten him anywhere with the microscope. Instead, he settled for keeping his optics on the work in front of himself and ignoring the Earth-elephant in the room. Eventually, his patience paid off.

“I apologize for last night.”

Huh. Well there it was then. Brainstorm kept his hands busy; it was easier to hide their tremble that way. “What about last night?”

“For interfacing. And merging. We… haven’t really talked about any boundaries in our agreement. I think that before things go farther that we should.”

“What boundaries are those? We share a lab and a closet, sometimes a berth if we’re lucky. What else is there to discuss?” Brainstorm felt a sudden tightening in his throat cables and was very glad that he’d finished talking when he did. He couldn’t let Perceptor know how much the conversation was getting to him.

For Brainstorm, it was far more than an agreement. It was more than letting off steam or relieving stress. He’d gradually begun to feel more for the other scientist over time and it had graduated to the point that his every other thought was about Perceptor. Brainstorm had thought he truly loved Quark, but he had never felt anywhere so strongly about him as he did for his current lab partner.

Perceptor shifted uncomfortably before he made his way over to his workbench. “I’m trying to be mature about this. Realistic.” The microscope took some files on his desk in hand and began to sort through them as he spoke. “Last night was a mistake. In the future, if we’re to keep this arrangement up, there’s no merging. Ever. It’s too dangerous.”

Brainstorm barely heard him, his attention on those beautifully dexterous hands. He watched them as they straightened the edges of the files and tried to remember how clumsy they’d been last nightcycle. Perceptor was always so careful, so smooth when he worked. But last night he’d been clumsy in his hurry to-

“Brainstorm? Are you listening to me?”

The teal mech hid the worst of his jump and turned quickly to fiddle with one of the experiments on his workbench. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, you bet. Just calibrating… stuff… in my helm, you know. I bet you can’t do that, can you?”

“This is serious.” Perceptor turned away to one of his projects with a roll of his optics and Brainstorm began browbeating himself mentally for teasing the red mech again. Quickly, the jet tried to find something, anything to cut the tension that had settled between them, but Perceptor muttered from where he sat on his side of the room. “Slagging stupid-“

“Percy, I didn’t mean to-“

“I don’t think we should keep this up anymore.”

“Uh, what?”

The tall scientist looked uncomfortable as he finally faced his lab partner. “I don’t think this is working out for me anymore. Last night crossed the line and… I feel like some space is needed. It shouldn’t have happened.”

Brainstorm felt his throat closing further with every word that the other mech said. He hadn’t expected this sort of reaction over a single spark merge. Self-doubt started to raise it’s ugly head and threatened to overwhelm him. 

Quark had rejected him similarly, but they’d never merged. The memory of the rejection, of the smaller mech’s flat voice, still caused him to ache deep inside sometimes. Brainstorm had thought that he’d begun to work his way through it, but looking at Perceptor’s impassive face as the red mech spoke reminded him that the pain hadn’t abated at all.

The jet somehow managed to laugh as he felt himself dying inside. “All over a little merge, Perce? Come on, it won’t happen again-“

“There is no such thing a ‘little merge,’ Brainstorm. It is a very serious, personal thing that I had hoped to… to save. For my conjunx.”

The seriousness in Perceptor’s confession finally caught the jet’s full attention. He looked down and away from the microscope, searching for anything that might save him from the piercing optic fixed on him.

Brainstorm pulled his wandering gaze back to his lab partner, his field retreating as it sank in what had happened. 

Perceptor felt violated. With horror, the teal mech realized that the mech he cared for so deeply regretted sharing his spark with him. Guilt threatened to consume Brainstorm and he struggled to hold in his writhing field. Not only had he been thoroughly, irrecoverably rejected. But he would always be a memory connected with regret to Perceptor. 

“Percy, I… I didn’t know…”

But the red mech shrugged, his optics void of emotion as he turned back to his workbench. “And now you do. I hope that this doesn’t affect our productivity as we will continue being lab partners. But I do not welcome any further propositions to interface. I think it will go far in making this entire incident more easy to cope with.”

“Um, sure. Of course.” Brainstorm hesitated for a moment and allowed another wave of agony to pass through his broken spark before he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

The ex-sniper didn’t even bother to turn around. “Hm?”

“Sorry, Percy.”

“Me too.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Primus, his fingers ached._

_But Perceptor barely paused in his work. He was so careful as he calibrated the time case, working his tests over and over again. A voice echoed in his helm and he remembered the way Brainstorm had laughed at him for checking his experiments a dozen times before touching anything._

_“Really, Percy? You’ve been staring at it for… for forever! When are you just gonna try it?”_

_“I have to make sure that it’s-“_

_“’Safe,’ yeah, yeah, I know.”_

_Brainstorm had moved and looped his arm over the red mech’s shoulder then. Perceptor had tried to shake him off. Why had he tried to shake him off?_

_When the jet had pulled away, his voice was staticky but quickly recovered to its usual jovial tone. Had it all been an act?_

_“Sometimes you’ve just gotta go for it, you know? You gotta live a little. Take a risk.”_

_“But what about-“_

_“’Variables?’ They come and go. But you know what stays constant?”_

_“The control variable, naturally.”_

_Brainstorm had sighed heavily and strode back to his side of the room. His field had been exasperated and… sad?_

_But Perceptor hadn’t been bothered to ask what the true constant was. He’d brushed off the conversation as one of the other scientist’s rust-helmed attempts to flirt with him. He’d left Brainstorm to watch him from across the room, waiting for Perceptor to become interested in what he had to say. But Perceptor had never turned around._

_Primus, he wished he’d turned around. He should’ve turned around every slagging time his lab partner called him._

_And Perceptor did turn around, away from the time case that occupied his workbench. He turned on his stool and looked over to his lab partner’s side of the room. But the microscope already knew what he would find._

_It was empty now._

_Perceptor got back to work. ___


	4. Chapter 4

This couldn’t be happening.

Brainstorm’s knees scraped against the washracks floor and he pressed a hand to his mouth. Nausea rolled through his tanks, making him weak and light-helmed. He felt his nasal bridge burn as he inhaled the scent of purged energon and his optics pricked and welled with tears. Unable to stand, he watched the last of his breakfast slide down the washrack drain. 

Somehow, the scientist managed to position himself so that his spinal strut rested against the wall. As the solvent continued to wash the rest of the purge down, Brainstorm was left to raise the spark test to his face.

Positive. He was undeniably sparked.

There was no question as to whose it was.

The teal jet rested his helm against the slick wall and stared up into the falling solvent. For once, he had nothing smart to say, no special equation that could fix this issue. He wanted to laugh, to scream and cry, he wanted to disappear and he wanted to fly. He was sparked. With Perceptor’s child.

Tears raced down his cheeks but were quickly washed away by the falling solvent. A choked giggle erupted from his throat, cut off by the tail-end of a ragged sob. 

No one had sparked in millions of years. No one. Even before the war, it had been so rare, a miracle worth celebrating. Even the seekers of Vos hadn’t sparked for thousands of years leading up to the war. Something like this had been long seen as impossible. Scientifically speaking, sparklings via spark merge and interfacing had been near non-existent percentage-wise for as long as Brainstorm had been online.

What an experiment!

Brainstorm blinked at the ceiling and lifted a trembling hand to his chest. He couldn’t feel it yet, but he imagined the presence of his newspark there, nestled up against his own spark. It made him smile.

But then he remembered. Memory files, most of them hazy with age, emerged from the stores of his processor. He had never thought that he’d be needing information on sparklings.

Sparklings and carriers required the sire’s assistance throughout the carrying process. Regular spark merging was needed in order to keep the overtaxed carrier’s spark turning and healthy. Those merges were also meant to provide the newspark with a strong sire-bond. The carrier’s body also needed transfluid from the sire throughout the process in order to build the sparkling’s frame in the gestation chamber. Without it, the carrier’s body would be completely drained of resources and would likely fail as it tried to build the frame on its own. In short, the carrying process bordered on impossible without the help of the sire…

Another retched whine breached the scientist’s vocalizer. Perceptor didn’t want anything to do with him. The other mech saw their union as a mistake, as a night to be regretted…

Would he regret this sparkling? Fear filled Brainstorm and he clutched both hands over his chest armor. What if the microscope tried to make him terminate it? 

Oh Primus. The whole ship would know in no time at all. They would make him get rid of this impossible little sparklng, this anomaly that science and history both said was impossible-

No. No, no, no-

And Ratchet would make him lay down and he would ask Brainstorm to open his chest plates. He would be gruff as always and Perceptor would refuse to be there for it. Brainstorm would be alone under the medic’s scalpel, helpless to protect his sparkling and Ratchet would come forward and it would hurt and they would take it away like some kind of parasite- and Perceptor would be happy and unattached and he’d refuse to even share his lab with Brainstorm anymore. This beautiful thing would be extinguished and anything that was left of that glorious, momentous, incomparably lovely feeling as their sparks met and they interfaced for the last time would be forever a regret and a memory of pain and longing in Brainstorm’s processor. And he would be left with a broken spark, a dead child and a Perceptor that was even more distant than he’d been before-

Brainstorm vomited heavily, barely managing to turn his face to the side in order to avoid hitting his own peds. The jet’s spark was jerking angrily in his chest and his vents were reduced to desperate gasps as the last of the energon in his tank was expelled. The solvent kept coming down and washing it all away, the tears, the pain, the purge, everything. He wanted to stay under it forever and hide from reality.

Perceptor couldn’t find out. 

Maybe he could figure something out about the need to merge and the transfluid donation from the sire. It was science. Simple. A few carefully veiled questions directed at Ratchet would likely tell the teal flyer all that he needed to know about the needs of carrier and sparkling during the process.

As he crawled to his peds, wobbling slightly, Brainstorm appreciated his frame for the first time. He wouldn’t show too much due to his size and frame type. It wasn’t perfect, but he could invent something to hide it completely. And he would have to fuel more anyway. Maybe he could use that to explain what little paunch could be seen-

The teal jet hacked a cough and rinsed the worst of the bitterness of purged energon from his intake before turning off the solvent. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

He wanted so badly to tell Perceptor. But he knew that it would seem hollow now, like he was trying to convince the ex-sniper to stay with him. Perceptor had made himself abundantly clear in the lab. He didn’t want anything to do with his lab partner beyond the professional level.

Brainstorm managed to stumble from the washracks and into his hab. Already he was growing clumsy and weak as the newspark siphoned off his energy. The hunger for interface had been boiling low in his groin for cycles, but touching anyone rather than Perceptor made him shudder. He would have to engineer something for both his spark and his gestation chamber soon. Preferably before his energy levels dipped dangerously enough that he wouldn’t be able to function properly in the lab.

Spitting a curse into the empty room, he briefly considered asking Perceptor for help. But just as quickly as he thought about it, Brainstorm shot the idea down. He knew that he would have to do this alone.


	5. Chapter 5

_This couldn’t be happening._

_Perceptor watched as the delicate wires he’d so carefully woven melted as the time case’s temperature rose. To watch the tiny, sharp metal strings disintegrate nearly drew tears into his optics. It had taken so much precious time to braid them just right. Now he would have to start over again._

_As he went about collecting fresh wires from his already small inventory, the lab door opened behind him. Perceptor didn’t need to turn around to know who it was._

_“Perceptor. You missed your appointment.”_

_“I became busy.”_

_The medic sighed heavily and Perceptor heard ped steps coming closer. “Rung is worried and so am I. You haven’t refueled in some time by my scans and you haven’t spoken to anyone since- what in the Pit? Is that…”_

_Perceptor didn’t try to stop himself from hissing as the ambulance reached toward the time case. Immediately, the Ratchet’s advance stopped and the microscope took the chance to throw a protective sheet over his work._

_He could almost feel Ratchet’s glare on the side of his helm. “How did you get ahold of one of these? They were destroyed.”_

_“It doesn’t matter where I got it from. I’m repairing it.”_

_“Perceptor, you can’t-“_

_“I can and I will.”_

_“Listen to me-“_

_“No!” The ex-sniper was on his peds in an instant, his optics half-crazed with lack of fuel and recharge. “You won’t take this chance away from me.”_

_Ratchet folded his arms and didn’t back down from the intimidating scientist. “What chance? You had your chance! No one out there blames you, Perceptor, if that’s why you’re doing this. The best you can do now is forgive yourself and move on.”_

_The other mech stayed stiff for a moment before releasing a sigh. With the gust of air that escaped his vents, Perceptor’s entire frame seemed to slump and he sat back heavily onto his workbench stool. “Perhaps they don’t blame me. But that doesn’t make it any less my fault.”_

_The medic watched as the red mech turned back to the time case under the cloth. Within moments, it was uncovered and Perceptor was wrist deep in it again, doing who knew what to get it up and running. He sighed, recognizing a losing battle, and retreated._

_Perceptor listened as the ambulance left his lab and the door closed behind him. He wondered briefly if what he was doing was truly ethical and if it was really the right thing to do. He began braiding a new length of wire, his fingers moving with new purpose. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are gonna slow down due to the new job and a spike in my depression. But don't wory! I shan't leave you hanging for long :)


	6. Chapter 6

Brainstorm pressed his fingertips into the sides of his helm. There had to be a better way.

He glared down at the rubber-coated syringe and considered trashing it. It didn’t feel anywhere close to a real spike as he passed it back and forth between his hands. The invention was clumsy and ugly and a waste of time. If he could just get the ball bearings to tell Perceptor-

The jet forced himself to tighten his vents and took a shallow breath through his mouth. 

Perceptor sat across the room innocently enough, working on whatever project he’d set his processor to. As Brainstorm watched, the microscope lifted his arms to reach for the ceiling, arching his spinal strut. A low moan reached the inventor’s audials as the red mech completed the stretch and resettled on his stool. Perceptor had no idea how much of a distraction he was.

Groaning, Brainstorm tightened his grip on the false spike. His body craved the other mech, searching out his scent and field with ravenous hunger. Somehow, no matter how tightly he kept his vents closed and his field tucked away, the jet still felt the other mech’s presence all around him. His valve positively ached to be filled with the Perceptor’s spike and transfluid. Whenever he thought of their last night of rough interfacing, the one that had left him sparked up, Brainstorm’s spark spun faster. It longed to be united once again with the other scientist’s spark.

It had been several cycles since Brainstorm discovered that he was sparked. Ever since then, the newspark’s presence had gradually begun to make itself known to him, projecting its emotions according to its carrier’s thoughts. It was always strongest when the scientist was in the vicinity of Perceptor. Whenever the ex-sniper and Brainstorm were together in their shared lab space, the newspark raged against the inside of its carrier’s spark casing, desperate to bond with its sire. More often than not, Brainstorm was treated to the newspark’s intense feelings of distress and anger as it was continuously deprived of a much needed merge, especially when it could sense its sire’s presence so nearby. 

A particularly hard jolt within his chest caused Brainstorm to place a hand over the plating. Careful to keep his voice low, he whispered to the newspark, sending waves of patience toward his future firstborn. “Just hold on a bit longer. I’m working on it.”

Brainstorm chanced another look at the red mech across the room and saw that Perceptor wasn’t paying him any mind at all, completely immersed in his work. When the jet’s optics crossed over the microscope’s frame, a second jolt passed through his spark. This one bordered on painful.

Soon, it would be time for the spark to drop. From what Brainstorm had read, the process was painful and could be lethal if the carrier hadn’t bonded regularly with his or her mate. The separation was also further complicated if the carrier hadn’t been consulting with and receiving care from a medic familiar with sparklings.

The teal jet turned back to his work, trying not to let his thoughts overwhelm him. The odds were definitely not in his favor as far as the initial newspark separation went. He’d only ever bonded with Perceptor the one time and they hadn’t interfaced since that evening either. Furthermore, Ratchet and First Aid had no idea that he was sparked. As far as Brainstorm knew, no one even suspected that he and Perceptor had been anything more than distant lab partners.

“Brainstorm? Is everything alright?”

It was only then that the inventor realized how he was sitting. The newspark’s last tug had left him hunched over his workbench, his hand clasped hard over his spark. It had left him largely breathless and he’d made the mistake of throwing open his vents when the pain began. In Brainstorm’s chest, the pain began to pulse as Perceptor stood up from his workbench on the other side of the room. As the microscope began to walk over, the jet felt the energy pulsing within his spark quickly converting to bittersweet hunger in his continuously empty valve.

Through it all, Brainstorm coughed a laugh and hid the false spike under a cloth as the other mech neared. “Yes! Yes, why? Having trouble with something? You know I’m always happy to help.” His voice broke halfway through and the jet finished the last sentence a little too quickly. 

Perceptor’s sharp optics slipped from the seated mech’s face to land on Brainstorm’s hand, still clutched against his chest. The ex-sniper’s voice was critical as his lab partner quickly retracted his hand to rest it awkwardly in his lap. “Did you injure yourself?”

“No! No, no. Just- uhm-“ Brainstorm flinched again as the newspark prodded harshly against the inside of his spark casing. Was it normal to feel stabbing pain in his chest? He wanted to check, but decided to worry about it later. Perceptor was still staring at him, waiting for an explanation. “I was just…”

“You should be more careful in the lab.” Still struggling from the latest painful jolt within his spark, Brainstorm watched the microscope reach for one of his unfinished experiments.

The inventor recognized it as one of his more dangerous guns, but another insistent wave of pain stole the name of it from his processor. He couldn’t quite keep the stutter out of his voice as Perceptor’s smell washed over his olfactory sensors. “Y-Yeah, sure. Definitely. You know m-me! Always getting into something or another-“

“I know.” Perceptor surprised the teal jet by reaching forward and nearly allowing his hand to graze the other mech’s shoulder plating. Just before they touched, however, the ex-sniper stopped himself and took a full step back. 

There was something strange in Perceptor’s field and Brainstorm forced himself to be still. The sudden interest that the red mech was taking in him could be explained easily enough. 

There was a theory that Brainstorm had read about that said sires were drawn to the carrying mate while the carrier was with child. According to the datapad, sires were subconsciously drawn to protect and care for both the carrier and their future offspring. 

As the red mech shifted his peds uncomfortably, Brainstorm reclosed his vents and forced the fog from his processor. An empty smile pasted itself onto his lips, carefully hidden behind a closed battle mask. The inventor only hoped that his voice was more convincing than his smile would be. “I’m good, Percy. It’s fine.”

“Is… it? Fine?”

The question took Brainstorm off guard and he couldn’t help but look back up at his long-time crush. He had trouble keeping his field in when he saw the look in Perceptor’s optics. 

The carrying mech reminded himself that Perceptor wouldn’t care if it where any other time. The microscope was under the effects of pheromones and had no real care for Brainstorm. The jet knew that once his sparkling was born, his lab partner would go back to hating him. This strange caring nature would fall away once more and leave a raw, open wound between them.

“Yeah. All’s good. We’re good. You and me, remember? Simpat-“

“Yes, I… I know.”

The teal jet watched his lab partner shake himself, like he was trying to rid his processor of Earth-spider cobwebs. The next moment, Perceptor’s optics were hard again, cold and largely emotionless. The sudden change made something ache in Brainstorm’s already pain-racked spark. But this pain had nothing to do with the newspark swirling in his chest.

Perceptor stepped away and retreated back across the room to continue working on his latest project. Brainstorm watched him go and looked back to his own bench. 

He yanked back the cloth and gazed down at the roughly molded false spike. Once he finished engineering the faux transfluid that he’d been working on in tandem with the false spike, he would be able to fill the syringe and deposit the fluid straight into his gestation chamber. If his calculations were correct, it would perfectly mimic real transfluid. 

A positive of developing his own transfluid was that the sparkling was less likely to be born reflecting Perceptor’s traits. With any luck, Brainstorm might be able to get away with never revealing the child’s sire.

Brainstorm blinked, finding suddenly it hard to see. Quickly, he put away the false spike. Crying was also scientifically easy to explain. He’d read somewhere that the carrying process heightened a carrying mech’s emotions and that the process could make him cry for no reason-

He would be on his own during the separation and the emergence. He’d already prepared an area in his hab, complete with a gag so that he wouldn’t scream too loudly during both processes. The jet had even resorted to carefully collecting medical grade and pain dampeners, visiting the medbay occasionally so that he could stock up. 

No one would be there to help him. He would have to do this alone.

 

~o0o~

 

Perceptor looked up at the sound of peds rapidly hitting the floor. By the time he’d turned around, the door to the lab was closing and Brainstorm was long gone.


	7. Chapter 7

_Perceptor pressed his fingertips into the sides of his helm. He couldn’t fix it. It wasn’t possible._

_The time case lay between his elbows on his workbench, partially dissected and still no closer to fulfilling its purpose. Perceptor should’ve listened more closely when his lab partner talked about his maddening experiments-_

_There had once been several of these time cases. Brainstorm had slaved over them for Primus knew how long. They’d been the jet’s life work, his reason for existing for some time… now they were Perceptor’s only hope._

_He hadn’t been able to recharge. The nightmares haunted him throughout the night and day cycles. If he wasn’t trying to rest, they followed him to the lab. If he wasn’t working, the memory of them made his fuel taste bitter and poisoned._

_No matter what he was doing, the memory of spilled energon always followed him, trailing after him like a slow-rising tide. Sometimes, he could feel it under his plating, soaking into his seams-_

_Perceptor wasn’t the kind to cry, but now he did. He didn’t sniff or whine; the tears just silently dripped off of his nasal bridge as he hunched over the time case once more. The ex-sniper watched them splatter on the time case’s scuffed surface and, for likely the thousandth time, he wished that he’d listened to Brainstorm. If he’d just listened when his lab partner spoke instead of always trying to drown him out. If he’d just taken a moment to recognize instead of see, to listen instead of hear… Things would’ve ended so differently. He should’ve appreciated what Brainstorm offered for what it was rather than brushing it away like the metal shavings that littered his work bench._

_Perceptor set down his tools, his hands shaking too hard to do any real work._

_Oh, Brainstorm._

_The first ragged sob tore from Perceptor’s vocalizer and he knew then that he wouldn’t get any more work done tonight. ___


	8. Chapter 8

Brainstorm had always fantasized about having his first sparkling.

He liked to imagine what it was like to become a carrier, to have his belly become round and heavy with his mate’s sparkling. He wondered what it was like to endure the discomforts such as purging with a gentle hand rubbing at his spinal strut and a soft voice whispering encouragement into his audials. 

Brainstorm used to imagine the pain that would come with separation. He had always held the hand of his mate in such private musings and had imagined that his cries of pain would be shushed and a warm field would brush against his with soothing serenity. His mate would cradle him to a strong chest as his spark broke and allowed their newspark to free itself. As it made the journey south toward the frame waiting in his gestation chamber, Brainstorm daydreamed that he and his mate would interface, providing more material to build their child a strong, healthy body.

The scientist had never imagined that he’d be alone for any of it.

Brainstorm hadn’t expected to be too weak to stand, unable to call anyone for help. He didn’t think that he would lay on his habsuite floor for three cycles straight, unable to refuel as his spark was completely consumed with agony. 

No one looked for him or wondered where he was. Not even when the fourth cycle dawned and the jet was too exhausted to lift himself onto his elbows. 

Every once in a while, he would black out from the pain. It was always a relief when the darkness closed over his helm and granted him a short reprieve from the burning fire in his chest.

He dreamed of Perceptor during his bouts of unconsciousness. They were so real that Brainstorm could almost feel Perceptor’s heavy spike sliding in and out of him, filling him to bursting with transfluid. The teal mech could almost taste it as he took Perceptor into his mouth and cleaned his own fluids from the microscope’s thick member... _Primus. ___

__But just as quickly as such lovely fantasies appeared, they were gone again, inevitably dissolving into the familiar agony that had come to rule his existence.  
He didn’t remember opening the comm. to his amica endura._ _

__

__~o0o~_ _

__

__Brainstorm felt careful hands petting him as he slowly came around. His plating still felt like it was on fire._ _

__“Shhh. I’ve got you.”_ _

__A thin mewl escaped the scientist’s vocalizer and he tried to keep his body as still as possible, allowing his entire focus to center around Chromedome’s soft voice. Those blessed hands kept caressing and Brainstorm soon realized that he was being bathed. He released a sigh as a rag soaked in cool solvent was passed repeatedly over his armor, bringing down the temperature of his overheating body. Every few strokes, those surgery-accurate hands dipped lower to massage some of the tension from his tight abdomen._ _

__Slowly, the pain ebbed away, leaving the jet’s frame completely drained. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Panic began to set in before Chromedome’s ever calm voice came from above. It took Brainstorm several moments to realize that his upper half was resting in the mnemosurgeon’s lap. “Try to stay still. Don’t push. I know you feel like you want to, but you can’t.”_ _

__“Is it…? Are we…?”_ _

__“It dropped and bonded to the frame as far as I can tell.”_ _

__Brainstorm’s belly tightened again before he could speak. The sensation stole his breath away and he felt suddenly like he had to purge and bear down at the same time._ _

__A thin whine escaped the carrying mech’s vocalizer and he struggled briefly in his amica’s strong arms. Just touching Chromedome was too much. He didn’t want to be touched by anyone other than Perceptor-_ _

__“Stop fighting it, Stormy. It’ll only make this worse than it already is.”_ _

__“Don’t want… touching…”_ _

__His body arched and he felt the urge to push again. Chromedome maneuvered the jet further up into his lap until Brainstorm’s helm rested against his shoulder. “Listen to me. I’m going to call Ratchet. He’s going to help you-“_ _

__“NO!”_ _

__“-killing you. Don’t push, just try and wait until he gets here. It’ll be okay, Ratchet can get it out-“_ _

__Before Chromedome had even finished speaking, the jet was thrashing and trying desperately to get away. “No! No! You can’t take it away! No!”_ _

__“Who is the sire? Does the sire even know about this?”_ _

__“No, he doesn’t know. He can’t ever know- oh, Primus-“_ _

__Brainstorm’s body seized up and he allowed his battle mask to retract. Finally, he allowed himself to cry out. Somewhere above he could hear Chromedome talking to him, asking him a dozen questions. But the jet couldn’t bring himself to answer any of them. They were too hard, to painful. But one was easy enough to answer. It required one word._ _

__“PERCY! PERCY!“_ _

__The microscope was the only one that he wanted. He was the only one that could save Brainstorm from the pain that stole every logical, scientific thought from his processor. Perceptor was the sire of his sparkling, the reason that he was willing to endure it all alone. If Perceptor wouldn’t have him, then no one else ever would._ _

__Chromedome felt tears rise in his optics as his friend screamed the name of his sparkling’s sire at the ceiling of the hab. He knew that there was nothing that he could say to ease the jet’s suffering and he held on tightly, gently massaging the carrying mech’s spasming belly._ _

__“I won’t- I can’t-“_ _

__“Calm down. You’re okay, just vent. I’ve got you, Stormy.”_ _

__

__~o0o~_ _

__

__Chromedome considered it a blessing when the teal mech passed out again, giving Brainstorm’s traumatized frame a reprieve at last. The nmemosurgeon planted soft kisses across the scientist’s slick forehelm and continued kneading his fingertips into the taught abdominal plating until the flight frame’s contractions stopped altogether._ _

__Perceptor didn’t know. Clearly, none of the medics either. Otherwise, Brainstorm would’ve been merging regularly and he would be showing a lot more due to a fully developed frame. Seeing as neither were happening, it could only mean that Chromedome himself was the only one that knew about the jet’s condition._ _

__As he lifted Brainstorm’s limp form off of the floor and carried him into the berthroom, Chromedome opened a comm. :Hey, we have a problem.:_ _

__After the stress of finding his amica in the middle of the floor, lifeless and sparked up without a mate, the sound of Rewind’s soft voice served as a balm to Chromedome’s fried sensors. :What’s going on? Did you find him? Need First Aid? Ratchet?:_ _

__:I… we can’t call Ratchet or First Aid. He’s… well, you’re not gonna believe this…: The orange and white mech lay Brainstorm on his side and checked the jet’s temperature a final time before tucking the covers up around his neck. It was closer to normal, but still too close to overheating for the mnemosurgeon’s comfort. :Rewind… Stormy’s sparked up. It’s Perceptor’s.:_ _

__A pause came over the comm. before Rewind spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. :Primus… But they aren’t… Percy doesn’t know, does he? What’s going on?:_ _

__:Well, I don’t know everything. Stormy hasn’t been merging with him or getting enough transfluid for the sparkling. It’s hurting him bad, but he’s made it through the separation at least…:_ _

__:Domey? Do you want me to come over?:_ _

__Chromedome sat down on his amica’s berth, fighting against the helpless tears that were trying to escape. :I didn’t know, Rewind. I didn’t hear from him for three cycles and… I didn’t try to find him…:_ _

__The historian’s voice soothed him quickly and Chromedome thanked Primus for the thousandth time for giving him someone as wonderful as Rewind. :You had no reason to know about this. You know that Brainstorm is known for staying in his lab for cycles without leaving. This isn’t on you.:_ _

__The mnemosurgeon moved to hold Brainstorm’s hand in his own. :He needed me. Where was I?:_ _


	9. Chapter 9

_“Where was I?”_

_It was the same question that Perceptor asked himself every time he paced the lab. He knew that it was a question that he couldn’t answer right now. But if he kept working, if he kept trying… he might get a chance to answer it after all._

_The red mech moaned and swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. Primus, he wanted another chance to answer. Oh, Primus, he NEEDED another chance to answer._

_He hadn’t refueled in three cycles._

_Perceptor glared across the room at the incomplete time case. At least he’d finally gotten the wires to stop melting. The nightcycle before, he’d managed to make the connections so that he could finally move on to the next step. Why was he more upset than he’d been before?_

_The microscope threw himself down in the corner of the lab, wedged between his workbench and the wall. Pressing the heels of his hands into his optics, Perceptor tried desperately to slow his venting._

_He couldn’t fix the time case. It wasn’t possible without the blueprints, the right tools, Brainstorm’s techniques, his hands-_

_Perceptor couldn’t do it without his lab partner’s stupid jokes, his warm optics, the way he only took energon warm and spiced. He couldn’t finish the time case without Brainstorm’s careful touch and his mischievous field. He couldn’t do it without the crooked smile that Brainstorm had worn on the night they merged._

_Primus. How had he been so cold? How had he managed to convince the other mech that it meant nothing to him and that it was all a mistake? How had he managed to do such a thing when he’d never actually convinced himself? ___


	10. Chapter 10

He hated to make Chromedome go. The mnemosurgeon had nearly pleaded with him; he hadn’t wanted to leave Brainstorm’s side for even a klik. But this couldn’t be done with an audience. It was bad enough that he had to do it at all.

Brainstorm lay on his back, the covers stripped from his berth. Slowly, he dragged his hands down his sides, allowing his fingers to dip into the seams and caress the wires inside. After taking a few patient breathes, he felt his core temperature begin to rise and his valve start to react.

It had been two cycles since he’d called Chromedome from the floor of his common area, too weak to move or refuel. Since then, his amica had stayed dutifully at his side, calling Rodimus and claiming that Brainstorm was injured by an experiment and needed rest. That comm. was quickly followed by a comm. from First Aid who asked if he should come down and take a look at whatever the scientist had done to himself. Fortunately, Chromedome had talked the junior doctor out of paying a visit and said that he had things under control.

Fueling had proven to be the hardest part. No matter what he did, Brainstorm couldn’t seem to keep anything down, whether it was midgrade or medical grade. They tried all kinds of spices and additives, desperate to get something in the inventor’s cramping tank. It had taken two cycles for Brainstorm to decide that it was now or never. If he didn’t try out the false spike and faux fluid, he’d have to take fuel intravenously and that was something that the medics would have to do.

Unwilling to have any medics poking at him and discovering his condition, Brainstorm told his friend what to bring up from the lab. Chromedome had been less than thrilled when he’d returned from the errand and placed the spike and three vials of the fake transfluid in the scientist’s trembling hands. “Stormy, this is too far. You need a medic. Why don’t you just tell him? Maybe he’d-“

“No! I can’t let Perceptor know. He can’t find out.”

“But he will anyway! If you somehow carry to term, the whole ship is gonna know you were sparked! And then what? How are you gonna explain it away? There can’t be a sparkling without a sire!”

“I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I need to do this.”

Chromedome’s visor had flashed, an indication that he was angry. “You’re too weak to even do it! And you haven’t refueled in Primus knows how many cycles!”

“I am aware, Domey. And I won’t be able to fuel unless I get this over with. I’ll comm. you when I’m done.”

“But-“

“I’ll comm. you, Chromedome.”

The mnemosurgeon said nothing else as he left the hab. Brainstorm had stared after his amica, regretful that he’d hurt the other mech. But this was important. If he didn’t get transfluid of some kind to the sparkling, then he would continue not being able to refuel. 

Brainstorm trailed his hands back down his own belly, feeling the slightest swell of his plating. It was too small, almost undetectable unless one was looking for it. Though he hadn’t expected to show very much due to his frame type, the sparkling’s frame should’ve been far more developed by now, especially since the newspark had dropped. It was just another reason that getting transfluid into his chamber was paramount to the survival of them both.

Another pass of his fingertips over his closed array prompted a slight moan from Brainstorm’s chassis. He turned off his optics and imagined that the hands touching him were black instead of white. The thought of Perceptor touching him seemed to help and the scientist slipped his fingers down to pluck at some of the wires inside his hip joint. “Percy…”

Brainstorm triggered his array open and, as he expected, his spike stayed tucked away and dormant. As he allowed his hand to travel lower, the teal jet imagined soft vents against the side of his helm, interspersed with kisses and loving words. It was easy to imagine Perceptor’s deep voice, hoarse with static as his rough fingertips made their way slowly further down to the carrying scientist’s clenching valve-

But when his fingers finally reached the bared entrance, he drew back slightly. A shock of pain raced up his body the moment that his valve lips were touched and Brainstorm gasped at the burning sensation. “What in-“

Spotting the mirror he usually kept in the washracks sitting on his nightstand, Brainstorm took hold of it and guided it down to his valve. Shimmying further up in his berth and leaning back against the wall was harder than he’d thought, his body weak since he hadn’t fueled for some time. The sight of his valve in the mirror made his tank turn.

The lips were swollen, but not with building arousal. They were irritated, filled with gathered energon, but not in the sexy way. He leaned up on an elbow and parted his legs further, trying to get a better view of his dry valve.

He was dry to the point that the lips bled from the small amount of prodding that he’d just done. Even though he’d been trying to work himself up to make the fake spike’s passage easier, his valve hadn’t lubricated at all. What he’d thought was lubricant was energon coating the lips as the thin metal mesh cracked open easily. He hadn’t refueled in so long… he was too dehydrated to form lubricant.

Brainstorm licked his own lips experimentally and felt just how little oral lubricant coated the inside of his mouth. “Primus.”

He set aside the mirror and took the fake spike in his hand. The scientist studied it for a moment and thought about how good a mouthful of energon would feel on his systems right now. Without getting some of the transfluid into his gestation tank, he wouldn’t be able have his energon. Well, he could have it, but it would come right back up.

For the first time, as his bleeding valve ached for real transfluid, Brainstorm considered calling one of the medics for help. But he knew that getting help would also mean that they would find out about the sparkling.

Brainstorm grit his denta together and nosed the sharpened tip of the false spike against his pulsing valve. He immediately felt the burn as the metal mesh strained around the tip, threatening to crack if it was pushed much further. The jet whined deep in his vocalizer and continued dragging the false member’s tip in and out, trying desperately to build some kind of arousal. It was true that he ached to be filled with a spike. But the painful jolts within his valve channel and the energon beginning to stain his berth complicated things considerably.

Eventually, the scientist managed to coax a bit of lubricant from his warming valve and soon the fake spike began to feel more teasing rather than torturous as it brushed the lips. Slowly, Brainstorm began to push in the syringe filled with faux fluid.

After getting about half of it inside, the jet was forced to stop, his vents harsh as pain radiated throughout his pelvic area. Although he’d managed to get some lubricant gathered on the outer lips of his valve, the inner channel was dry and stuck terribly to the rubbery material of the false spike. Already, Brainstorm could feel fresh energon coating his fingers and he took a deep vent. With one harsh jerk of his hand, he forced the spike into his valve and felt the tip of the syringe breach his gestation chamber wall.

Stars exploded behind Brainstorm’s optics and he distantly had enough processor speed to compress the syringe’s plunger. Low in his belly, he felt a cool sensation as the faux fluid flooded his gestation tank. Though it was hard to distinguish anything from the agony radiating across his lower body, the inventor felt his body hungrily putting the faux fluid to work, immediately soaking it in and using it to fuel the building of the sparkling’s frame. Even through the pain, Brainstorm sighed in relief.

When he finally managed to pull the syringe from his valve, energon splattered from the torn channel walls. Despite the amount of damage he’d done to his interface array, the bleeding stopped quickly, reminding Brainstorm of his dangerously low fuel levels. Dizzily, the jet reached for the cube of energon that he’d left on the nightstand beside his berth.

As the pain finally began to dissipate, Brainstorm gathered the last of his strength to roll onto his side and take the cube of energon. He praised his own forethought in placing a straw in the medical grade as his hands shook far to hard for him to drink straight from it. He sat the cube on the berth and lay his helm down again, biting the curly straw in his denta as he began to refuel.

It sat heavily in his tank at first and he thought he would purge again despite dosing himself with faux fluid. As he dared to keep fueling, his angry tank began to process the fuel and blessed energon filled his lines. Though he knew that his bleeding valve would lose some of the precious energon, the feeling as it filled his deflated fuel lines made Brainstorm’s processor sluggish with relief.

Once the cube was finished, the spent carrier shot a comm. to Chromedome. When his amica arrived, the other mech would help him to the washracks where they would wash away the energon lost. As Brainstorm sat on the couch, the nmemosurgeon would make his berth and clean away the worst of the mess of fluids. When he was finished, Chromedome would help him to berth and they cuddle together in the soft sheets as Brainstorm’s frame recovered and put the fuel to good use…

As he waited for his friend to arrive, the scientist allowed his processor to fall blank. He wondered what Perceptor thought of his absence from the lab. But even as he thought about it, Brainstorm knew that his lab partner didn’t miss him. The microscope was likely reveling in the silence, the lack of sharing the lab with his “regret.”

The door pinged an entry code and Brainstorm struggled once more to try and stop the tears from filling his optics.


	11. Chapter 11

_The silence was getting to him. At least that’s what Rung said._

_Perceptor was jerky and nervous, always checking his back and keeping his audials turned to max. His sensory system was so sensitive that he could hear his own spark spinning._

_The time case was so close to being finished. The microscope couldn’t be tempted a step out the door of his lab these days, neglecting his other projects as the time case grew closer to completion._

_Ratchet brought his fuel, mostly. Chromedome had once or twice. The last time the mnemosurgeon had brought him fuel, the poor mech had taken one look at the time case and burst into sobs. Unsure of how to comfort the former amica endura, Perceptor had simply dropped a cloth over the time case and taken the cube silently from Chromedome’s unsteady hands. He’d watched, too drained to react as the orange and white mech fled the lab, never to come back again._

_Perceptor took another sip of the medical grade, ignoring the bitter flavor it had. He didn’t care about taste anymore, just so long as the fuel kept him from offlining._

_The scientist checked his HUD. Ratchet would be by soon with more energon. Perceptor quickly finished the one in his hand; it was from yestercycle. He didn’t want to endure another Ratchet-rant because he hadn’t taken the previous cycle’s energon. ___


	12. Chapter 12

“Where have you been?”

The question didn’t surprise Brainstorm and neither did its disapproving tone. The jet turned slowly on his lab stool and smiled at his lab partner across the room. “Just took some personal cycles. Is that a crime?”

Perceptor narrowed his optic in a considering squint before turning away back to his work bench. “I would have appreciated some kind of warning before you disappeared.”

“Why? Were you worried about me?” Brainstorm tried to keep his hands form shaking as they reached for different items on his work bench. Primus, he was so dizzy. He’d just recently begun to refuel properly-

“Perhaps I was. A little worried.”

The jet froze suddenly, his fingers just barely brushing the ingredient he’d been searching for. Had he heard right? “You… were?”

“Of course. It’s unlike you to miss time in the lab.” Perceptor kept working as he spoke, like his words didn’t mean the world to the other scientist. “I asked about you to Chromedome. He was unusually cool with me so I assumed that it must be a private matter.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess so.” Brainstorm felt a nudge in his gestation tank and knew that soon the cramping would start again. It always did when he was near Perceptor. “How, uhm- How were things? While I was gone?”

“Quiet.”

“’Quiet’?”

Brainstorm knew that he was pushing his luck. Usually, Perceptor would’ve lost interest in their conversation by now and turned away to make a point. Instead, the microscope was watching him carefully. The inventor had to force himself still under the other mech’s penetrative gaze, glad that he had his mask in place.

“Yes. Quiet.” The red mech gave him a final considering look before turning away and back to his work bench.

But Brainstorm couldn’t leave it alone. 

He had tried not to hope ever since Quark. When Perceptor had decided to end their arrangement, he had been ready to accept the other mech’s decision, even as it broke his spark to pieces. But somehow, he couldn’t extinguish his barest optimism now, not with Perceptor’s child growing in his belly. “Hey, Percy? Do you have a klik?”

“Hm?” The ex-sniper remained hunched over his work, barely pausing as he welded two wire ends together.

“I…I have something to tell you.”

 

~o0o~

 

The teal jet was never the type to hesitate or think before he spoke. But listening Brainstorm struggle now made Perceptor wonder what it was that plagued the other scientist’s processor. He turned on his lab stool, half expecting to have some outlandish, terribly dangerous, unethical experiment shoved into his face.

But Brainstorm was still seated on his side of the lab, his mask retracted as he stared at his lab partner. His lips were moving, but he couldn’t seem to start a sentence without stopping himself and glancing away. Whatever the jet had to say was obviously very upsetting.

“Brainstorm, what is going on?”

He hadn’t meant to sound harsh. The jet flinched away and Perceptor regretted the tone he’d used. He wanted to apologize, but that would risk opening up a personal conversation. Something that he especially wanted to avoid after the dissolving of their arrangement.

“I’m- I’m-“

Perceptor narrowed his optic at the inventor, seeing that Brainstorm had begun to shake slightly. He felt his frown deepen, worry creeping into his processor. Perhaps the other scientist actually had something wrong with him. Maybe this wasn’t some joke- “Brainstorm, what-“

 

~o0o~

 

The microscope was practically glaring at him now, his voice hard and serious. Brainstorm wanted to tall him, had to tell him-

“I can’t…”

“What? Brainstorm, you have to speak up.”

The jet looked up and saw that Perceptor was beginning to stand up from his stool. The other scientist looked confused and maybe a little worried, his reticle zeroing in on him with perfect focus. Brainstorm suddenly felt a lot smaller under the ex-sniper’s calculating gaze and the stress finally forced him to crack.

 

~o0o~

 

“I can’t! I can’t!”

Perceptor jumped, surprised at his lab partner’s outburst. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘calm down’- 

The teal jet leapt from his stool, optics wide and a little dazed as he scrambled backward toward the door. Tears were leaking down Brainstorm’s face and his helm shook in the negative as he backed away from Perceptor’s slow advance. “Brainstorm, what in the Pit-“

“Sorry, Percy.”

“What are you sorry for?” Instantly, the microscope looked back to his desk. He expected to find something broken or missing, but found everything in its place. Even if Brainstorm had damaged one of his instruments, this reaction was far too-

“I’m so sorry, Perceptor.”

That got his attention. Brainstorm never called him by his full name, not to his face. It was a tactic that the inventor had started early on to annoy his lab partner on purpose.

The red mech turned back to see the jet moving quickly toward the door. “Brainstorm, wait-“

But Brainstorm was already gone.


	13. Chapter 13

_Brainstorm was gone. Where had he gone to?_

_The microscope muttered to himself as he bumped into the cube that Ratchet had delivered two cycles ago. He barely flinched as it splashed over his peds and the cube shattered on the floor. He had bigger things to worry about._

_Perceptor couldn’t recharge for the ache in his chest. The bond had been broken for literally a whole meta-cycle, but the pain hadn’t faded in the slightest. First Aid said that it was in his helm; he was probably right. He should’ve recovered by now, should’ve been reintegrated back into the crew._

_No one bothered him anymore. No one knew what he was making._

_Rodimus ordered them to leave him be._

_The prime was also on Perceptor’s processor as he worked tirelessly over the time case. Rodimus had been Megatron’s intended since nearly the start of their mission. It was a surprise to the scientist that no one had noticed the captain’s injuries that he tried to hide. Rodimus was a good actor, but Perceptor had known him before, back when they ran with the Wreckers together. Plus, Perceptor was nothing if he wasn’t perceptive. Especially after not noticing Brainstorm._

_It was clear that the captain was being severely abused by Megatron._

_The red speedster wouldn’t last much longer. Not with the way his frame was suffering. Not with the ex-warlord’s sparkling on the way-_

_Secretly, the microscope wanted for Ultra Magnus to step in. To say something. Anything-_

_Maybe Perceptor could tell Drift? No. It was much to late to fix things anyway._

_Perceptor’s fingers worked all the faster. ___


	14. Chapter 14

Brainstorm positioned himself on his hands and knees. His elbows shook with fatigue as he tried to balance, his belly hanging heavy and low. He could feel it pulling on his internal components in this position, but this seemed to loosen some of the pressure form his spinal strut.

The contractions had started late the previous nightcycle. They were still pretty far between, but they were strong enough to let him know that the time had come. Brainstorm tried to make himself comfortable even as worry penetrated him deep in his spark. The sparkling was coming and, from what he’d read, it was coming way to early. 

Another contraction hit, this one sooner than the last one had. He knew instinctively that it wasn’t time to push yet; his seal hadn’t even broken. In his belly, he could feel the sparkling shifting around in the birthing fluid, moving lower in his gestation tank as it prepared to emerge. The scientist gritted his denta on the cloth gag and pushed down another scream of pain as the contraction peaked. He only began to relaxed when it faded away to a dull ache in his array.

He had decided not to tell Chromedome. Brainstorm did want his amica to be there to help him, but he also wanted to spare the mnemosurgeon from seeing him in so much pain. The jet also suspected that his friend would call on Ratchet the moment he found out that the child was coming. So, in the end he had elected to keep his hab locked and his comm. closed.

Once the contraction had faded away in its entirety, Brainstorm moved to lay on his back. Reaching, he took the mirror off of his nightstand and into his hand, guiding it down to his bared valve.

He’d been checking it after every contraction, searching for any sign that he was beginning to dilate. So far, there was nothing to indicate that his body was preparing to birth the sparkling. Pulling in a shaky vent, the scientist shifted to place the mirror back on the nightstand. He should’ve started to dilate somewhat, especially with his contractions growing closer together. Already, they were pushing the normal length of time before his seal should be breaking.

Brainstorm stared up the ceiling and released the vent he’d been holding. Part of him was excited to meet the sparkling that he’d protected and hidden for so long. He couldn’t wait to hold and cuddle his creation, to give it a name and kiss it’s new little face. Would it be a flight frame like himself, with tiny winglets that he would massage when it cried? Maybe would it have piercing blue optics and red plating to match its handsome sire?

The carrier settled down and tried to make himself comfortable as he waited for the next contraction. He was also terrified of what was to come. He would be alone for the birth, completely dependent on his own faculties. But after that, he would also be raising the sparkling on his own. Brainstorm would be a single creator in a universe that had given up on ever seeing birthed sparklings again. He would be the first. 

The thought brought a smile to the jet’s tired face. Perhaps he would be remembered for something after all.


	15. Chapter 15

_Cybertron was in an uproar. Somehow, Perceptor had missed the excitement as he worked in his lab._

_Starscream was dead._

_It had been Drift who brought the news. The white speedster had been unusually subdued as he delivered the report, struggling to form complete sentences as he relayed the details of the ruler’s demise. It had been a heatcycle that did the seeker in and not an assassin as Perceptor would’ve expected. Starscream, too traumatized to interface with anyone, had hidden himself away and had succumbed to spark failure when his frame overheated in a storage closet._

_A storage closet. Starscream’s final resting place. To hear the proud seeker reduced to such a thing struck the microscope more than he’d thought that it would._

_Drift couldn’t seem to talk straight at him, his optics constantly darting to stare just beyond Perceptor’s shoulder. If the scientist didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that somebot was standing behind him. He recognized the look in the swordsmech’s optics. Perceptor often felt the same way when he thought about Brainstorm too much. Like his specter lurked right behind him-_

_“And Rung. Primus.”_

_Perceptor glared down at the cloth that covered the time case. “What about him?”_

_The other mech flinched a little before answering, his words fast and shaking. “Magnus went looking for him. Hadn’t seen him for a while-“_

_The swordsmech abruptly hugged himself and muttered something to whoever was lurking just over Perceptor’s shoulder before continuing. “Poor mech. No one saw before it was too late. They called Ratchet, but- but-“_

_The microscope turned to look at the white mech head on. “Drift, what happened? Is Rung going to be alright? Is he in the medbay?”_

_“No. No to both. He was gone.” Drift’s optics were wide and blank in a strange way. “You’re gonna fix it aren’t you? You’re gonna go back, right?”_

_“Drift, where is Rung?“_

_“Dead. Gone. He cut his own lines.”_

_The swordsmech froze and cocked his helm, indicating that he was receiving a comm. A few kliks later, he broke into a lilting laugh, one that was empty and more than a little creepy. “Well, I hope you do it soon. Roddy’s gone into labor.” Perceptor stared at the speedster as Drift made his way to the lab’s door._

_Once there, the other mech looked back a final time. Gone was the happy, wise mech that he had once been. In his place was a mech haunted and terrified, someone who saw far more than he wanted to. “He’s not gonna make it. Ratchet told him he couldn’t, not with his spark case the way it is. At least Megatron won’t be able to hurt him anymore, right?”_

_Drift turned to leave before stopping. His shoulders slumped forward and Perceptor couldn’t see his face. “Am I sick, Percy?”_

_“What?”_

_“Am I sick for hoping my amica dies? So that he won’t be hurt anymore?”_

_The scientist considered briefly. “No. No it’s not sick, Drift. It’s what we’ve been driven to.”_

_“They hurt Rung so bad. The Functionists. Worse than we knew. We got so used to him helping us, yuh know?_

_“How many are hurting like that? Like him and Starscream and Rodimus? Does anyone see it before it’s too late, or only when we can’t fix it anymore?”_

_Perceptor watched the TIC leave, unable to answer the questions that he asked. The microscope hadn’t been able to answer that question himself. After all, he hadn’t seen Brainstorm’s suffering until it was far too late. The reality of it had left Perceptor with one answer, an answer that lay under the cloth on his work bench._

_He would pause his work just long enough to pay his respects to Rung. Then he would wait respectfully until it was Rodimus’ turn. ___


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been in the emergency room half the day with kidney stones... funny, the doctor said the pain is worse than childbirth. Ironic.

When Brainstorm removed his outer abdominal plating to reveal the protoform underneath, he hadn’t expected to find what he did. Heavy bruising marred the surface of his spasming protoform, staining the thinly stretched metal. As he lay back on his berth and tried to calm his racing spark, Brainstorm knew that he was in far over his helm.

It could only mean internal bleeding. This was his second cycle in labor.

Something was terribly wrong.

The previous cycle had been spent purging in the washracks due to the pain and self-dosing with the faux fluid to try and speed the birth along. Brainstorm had tried pacing, lying flat, standing on his hands and knees, anything to try and move the emergence along. 

The sparkling’s helm had moved lower throughout the time and was pushing hard against the flyer’s narrow hips. It wasn’t kicking anymore and Brainstorm couldn’t feel its presence through the bond they shared. Fearing the worst, the jet tried to squat down in the corner of his berthroom, desperate to break his seal by hand if he had to.

It should’ve broken long ago, back before the contractions had started to run into each other. He was feeling the urge to push very strongly now. Brainstorm quickly slicked his fingers with medical grade from a cube in front of him on the floor.

The pain was nearly overwhelming as he shoved three fingers up into his valve. He screamed out, long past the point of caring if someone out in the hall heard his cries. Aware that he was likely causing further damage to his un-dilated valve, Brainstorm pushed on until the tip of his middle finger brushed up against the thin seal that had formed over the gestation tank’s gel wall. Uncaring as to how much it would hurt and overtaken by fear for his sparkling’s life, the scientist jammed his fingers against the seal-

A rush of fluid burst from his entrance and splashed across the floor at his peds. Brainstorm allowed himself to vent for a moment as some of the pressure eased. “Thank Primus-“

And then he looked down.

The floor was saturated with nearly straight energon, intermixed with faint streaks of the silvery birthing fluid that should’ve filled his gestation tank. The sight of so much pink nearly sat the scared jet back on his aft. More was still pouring out, running across the floor until something moved to block its flow within his body. 

Brainstorm jerked a little as he felt his sparkling’s body rested against the bottom of his gestation tank. It wasn’t moving-

“No, no, no-“

The scientist scrambled to his peds, light-helmed as he fought to stay calm. His valve had barely dilated at all since the process had begun. It was sore and tight like he hadn’t been trying to work it open at all. Stumbling, he made his way over to his berth.

Trembling so hard that he could barely hold onto it, Brainstorm angled the mirror between his legs. His valve was smeared with copious amounts of fluid, slimy and cold but no more prepared for the sparkling than it had been when this all began.

A wave of pain overtook Brainstorm and he dropped the mirror. It broke on the floor just as he hit his knees.

Brainstorm threw his helm back and screamed at the ceiling, his gestation tank collapsing inward at the top as another contraction tore through his frail body. He hadn’t been able to refuel in so long; his armor was already graying-

He stopped screaming. He stopped crying.

The scientist gazed down at the shattered remains of the mirror and exvented shakily. A trail of energon, thick and dark, led from the corner to his berthside and he knew. He knew that it was too much.

The exhausted mech lowered his helm and moved his hands to cradle his swollen, lopsided belly. The sparkling’s presence hadn’t been there for some time. As a creator, Brainstorm should’ve been feeling its emotions, its basic thoughts. It had been at least a cycle since he’d felt his child move at all.

Brainstorm slumped forward onto the floor as another contraction followed on the heels of the last one, dragging a low groan of pain from his vocalizer. He’d failed. His sparkling had likely been dead since yestercycle…

A single tear rolled down his face, falling to join the energon pooling on the floor. He’d lost Perceptor. Now, he’d lost his first born child.

The carrying mech lay himself down on the floor and allowed himself to groan when the next contraction began. It didn’t matter what happened to him now. He couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Brainstorm had just begun to close his optics when he made a decision. As his vision grew dim and his body relaxed from its latest contraction, the scientist opened a comm. to Ratchet.

 

~o0o~

 

The medic considered ignoring the short comm. he’d gotten from Brainstorm. It was more than likely that the jet had injured himself in the lab and was too embarrassed to come to the medbay himself.

_:Please come to my hab. Urgent.: ___

__Ratchet tapped lightly on the habsuite door and listened for movement inside. H rolled his optics ceilingward and spat a curse. “Slagging idiot mechs. If it isn’t Radius wrecking in the halls then it’s a scientist blowing himself up-“ The ambulance knocked harder on the door, growing impatient. “Brainstorm! Open up!”_ _

__Upon hearing no movement inside, Ratchet entered his medical override into the keypad._ _

__As he expected it to be, the hab was a mess. Datapads and all variety of scientific instruments were strewn around the floor, making it nearly impossible to navigate. Ratchet felt more than one datapad crack under his peds and he entered the war zone of a hab, stumbling over several tools. His ire rose even more when the mech who’d commed him remained missing. “Where in the Pit are you, Brainstorm? I don’t have all-“_ _

__A weak moan came from the medic’s right and Ratchet turned to find the berthroom door halfway open. Stepping as lightly as he could among the mess, the grumbling mech made his way to the berthroom door and pushed it open. “Brainstorm, this better be good or- oh!”_ _

__Ratchet barely caught himself on the doorframe as his peds caught on something heavy just inside the room’s entrance. When the surprised medic looked down-_ _

__Brainstorm, covered in energon and very pregnant, lay just inside the berthroom. The scientist’s optics were dim with pain and as Ratchet watched, the carrying mech’s protoform convulsed in a powerful contraction. Rather than a thready whimper, Brainstorm barely reacted as sparks danced across his overcharged plating and snapped around his shorting biolights._ _

__After a moment of shocked silence, Ratchet dropped to his knees beside the downed mech, carefully running his fingertips across the jet’s abdominal plating. Even such gentle touching drew a soft whine from Brainstorm. The inventor’s optics brightened slightly before rolling up to see the medic kneeling over him. “R-Ratch?”_ _

__“Just shut up. Don’t say anything.”_ _

__“Sorry?”_ _

__The medic ignored him and carefully rolled Brainstorm onto his spinal strut. Once there, Ratchet parted the carrying mech’s legs and leaned into check the valve’s dilation. What he found made his spark sink. “How long have you been having contractions?”_ _

__The struggle on Brainstorm’s face was obvious as the scientist tried to form words. “Y-yestercycle. Early.”_ _

__Ratchet studied the underprepared valve for a klik more before closing the other mech’s legs and gently moving the jet to rest on his side. As he was moved, another contraction stole the vents from Brainstorm’s intake and his body stiffened. Helplessly, Ratchet watched as more energon and less birthing fluid gushed from the teal mech’s channel to cover the floor. “Who is the sire?”_ _

__“N-no sssire.”_ _

__“Don’t be ridiculous.” The medic thought for a moment about calling First Aid but decided against it. There was no use in distressing the carrying mech any further than was necessary. Slowly, Ratchet managed to lift Brainstorm into his arms. “Who is the sire of this sparkling? We need to get him or her to the medbay-“_ _

__“NO.” The tone of Brainstorm’s voice stopped the medic in his tracks._ _

__The carrying mech gripped onto Ratchet’s arm with weak fingers, his field pleading as he spoke. “R-Ratch, he c-can’t know. N-Never- please-“_ _

__“Then tell me who it is. Have you been merging with him? Interfacing regularly? Clearly, you haven’t been receiving prenatal care or I would have-“_ _

__“No, no, no. H-He- he isn’t part of this.”_ _

__“You’re telling me that you haven’t even told the sire that you’re carrying? That you’re giving emergence right now?”_ _

__Brainstorm flinched at the ambulance’s tone and Ratchet tried to push comfort into his field. Trying to jostle the jet as little as possible, the medic made his way out into the main hab area and then on toward the front door. He didn’t worry about anyone seeing them. It was late into the nightcycle; it was unlikely that they’d meet anyone in the halls-_ _

__The scientist’s helm lolled against Ratchet’s shoulder, his field a mess of pain, panic and sorrow. The reality of the situation was rapidly becoming clear to the former CMO as he jogged through the silent halls toward his medbay. Brainstorm knew what was happening, was aware that his situation was futile- “Listen to my voice, Brainstorm. You have to stay awake. Once we get to the medbay, I’m going to get the sparkling out of you. Everything will be fine-“_ _

__“D-Didn’t t-take you for a l-liar, Ratch.”_ _

__“I’m not, you’re going to be fine.”_ _

__“M-My sparkling…“_ _

__“I’m sorry, Brainstorm.”_ _

__The jet didn’t say another word all the way to the medbay._ _


	17. Chapter 17

_Rung looked peaceful enough where he lay on the medberth. First Aid had truly outdone himself, cleaning and polishing the little mech’s armor to a high shine. If Perceptor hadn’t seen the photos that Nightbeat took at the scene, he would’ve thought that Rung was recharging peacefully._

_A loud wail broke from the next room over, making Perceptor flinch. Rodimus had been in labor all cycle, his cries growing weaker and weaker as the entire medical staff fought to save both him and the sparkling he carried. Judging by the sounds coming from the neighboring room, the mutters of the medics that only the sniper’s high-tuned audials could pick up, there was no hope for the carrier and his child._

_Drift had been right. They would have only one captain before the cycle was over._

_Perceptor reached and lay his hand on the lifeless mech’s face. Rung looked so serene, his little mouth pulled into a soft smile. Ratchet’s report said that it had been quick, that the little orange mech had cut his lines cleanly and had expired in mere kliks. Suddenly sick, Perceptor pulled the sheet back over Rung’s face, unable to look at those darkened glasses any longer._

_Another sobbing moan reached the scientist’s audials and he considered going to comfort Drift. But the swordsmech wasn’t in the medbay; he’d hidden himself somewhere on the ship. The breaking of an amica bond would hurt and he likely wanted to be alone for it-_

_A whispered growl reached his sensitive audials._

_“What do you mean it’s dead? Rodimus was fine-“_

_Ratchet’s quiet voice interrupted the angry warlord. “Rodimus is very far from fine. He did not receive the care he needed or the merging that his spark needed.”_

_“Is the prime going to die?”_

_The question was asked in a flat, bored tone, like Megatron was ordering a drink at Swerve’s. It made Perceptor feel sick to hear it. Ratchet sighed and hesitated, something that he didn’t do often. “We… cannot save him. No. His sparkcasing has shattered and his gestation chamber has collapsed around the sparkling, indicating that the mechling is already gone.”_

_A deep snarl was the last thing that Perceptor expected to hear. The silver mech’s hissed words sent a spike of fear through his spark. “If my mate doesn’t come through this and he is able to carry again, you will pay for it, medic.”_

_The microscope didn’t hear the CMO’s reply as a high flat tone reached him through the wall. Then, First Aid’s voice, quiet and resigned._

_“Time of death, 16 kliks past the cycle change.” ___


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kidney stones are awful. Fortunately, I wrote this two weeks ago.
> 
> I hope y'all are ready to suffer :)

As the night cycle wore on, it became increasingly clear that Brainstorm’s spark was failing. The jet was seizing, his body locking up every few kliks. No matter what Ratchet did, he couldn’t seem to ease the suffering mech’s pain. Hunkering down and doing his best to keep his field positive, the old medic lifted Brainstorm’s peds into the stirrups and went about cleaning up the worst of the mess.

“Don’t t-tell- Percy-“

Ah. So the ex-sniper was the sire of the sparkling. Though Ratchet had had his suspicions, the disclosure still came as a surprise. He hadn’t been aware that Perceptor and Brainstorm were so close as to create a sparkling.

“Hush. You need to focus on venting and pushing.” Pushing was futile at this point, but Ratchet couldn’t let the other mech know that.

A broken moan escaped the scientist’s vocalizer as he strained through another violent contraction. Ratchet checked the valve again and found it still weeping with energon. A puddle of it had begun to form under Brainstorm’s aft on the mediberth. He was bleeding internally-

Another cry of agony burst from the jet’s cracked lips and his battered frame convulsed. Helpless to do anything but watch, the old medic kept his hold on Brainstorm’s hand. “It’ll be over soon. It’ll all be over soon-“

“Don’t tell him- you can’t-“

“Why not? This is his creation too. He has a right to know.”

A few scattered pants transpired before Brainstorm could speak. “He h-hates m-me enough. Not g-gonna die w-with him hating m-me more.”

The revelation shocked Ratchet into silence. “How… Why would he hate you?”

Golden optics rolled in Brainstorm’s helm, unable to focus on Ratchet for very long. “H-He broke i-it off. H-He hated m-me- but-” A wretched sob came from the dying mech and tears trailed down his face. “-I d-didn’t care- long a-as I h-had him.”

“Oh, Brainstorm. You can’t believe that.”

Panic lit in the scientist’s field and he thrashed suddenly, his legs jerking in the stirrups. More energon shot from his valve channel and Ratchet might’ve prayed to Primus for the first time in his existence. Brainstorm released a feeble groan and his optics darkened for a moment before blaring white. “I’m s-sorry! Please, Percy! Percy-“

The jet fought his way through another contraction, too weak to even scream as something within his abdomen made a sickening pop. Brainstorm choked for a moment before he coughed wetly. Energon burst from his mouth, coating his graying lips in a fine mist. Another seizure racked his failing frame as a thin wail erupted from his vocalizer.

Ratchet opened a comm. :Perceptor? You better answer me, slag you-:

:Ratchet? Is something wrong?:

The sophisticated, calm voice of the sniper nearly drove the medic into hysterics. :Get your aft to my medbay yestercycle!:

:Ratchet, what-:

:He’s dying. He’s…: 

Ratchet kept his attention on the teal mech in front of him. He hadn’t merged with Perceptor or accepted transfluid throughout the carrying process. He wasn’t strong enough and the sparkling likely wouldn’t be either. In fact, the sparkling was likely already dead. Despite what Brainstorm said, Perceptor needed to be present for this.

The medic steeled himself as the dying mech shuddered on his table. :Perceptor, Brainstorm was carrying. There is nothing that I can do-:

:I’m coming now.:

 

~o0o~

 

On the mediberth, Brainstorm’s optics had dimmed to nearly black as they stared at the ceiling. He thought back to the first time he and Perceptor had interfaced, back when the Lost Light had barely been free of Cybertron’s atmosphere. It had been something beautiful.

It was poetic, really. As a scientist, Brainstorm had never really paid much mind to poetry or art. But theirs had truly been a story worth telling.

Perceptor had been his first, though the other mech likely didn’t know it. There had been a party at Swerve’s. It was the only time that Brainstorm had ever seen his genius rival tipsy. Perceptor wasn’t the type to let his guard down and have a few drinks.

Brainstorm had also drank a little too much that nightcycle. It had given him the courage to make his move. He’d always been attracted to the infamous sniper so when Perceptor returned his interest, who was he to stop and say “by the way, my valve is still sealed”? No, he wasn’t about to ruin his chance with Perceptor.

The other scientist had been a good first time. Sure it had hurt some, but the orange scientist had expected nothing less with having his seals broken via a drunken, rough frag. He’d entered the berth happy to take anything that Perceptor would give him. That mentality had continued throughout the duration and termination of their arrangement.

Despite the red mech not returning his feelings, Brainstorm wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Even now as he lay bleeding out on Ratchet’s table, he knew that he would’ve done it all over again. Just to be close one more time-

Brainstorm hacked a laugh and tasted spent energon on his lips. It wouldn’t be long now. 

He’d been rejected more than once. Quark hadn’t seen him or given him the time of day. Neither had Perceptor rather than a quick closet frag to relieve stress and that mistake that was the merge. It broke the jet’s spark to think about how overlooked he’d been despite his efforts. The least that he could do now was die quickly. Perhaps if Ratchet held his hand it wouldn’t be so bad to die with the grouchy medic at his side-

And there he was.

Perceptor’s face came into view, as handsome and composed as ever. Brianstorm blinked a few times and tried to speak. But only quiet gurgling came out of his vocalizer as energon collected at the back of his throat.

Distantly, he heard the other scientist’s voice over the din that was his flaring spark. “Brainstorm, why? Why didn’t you tell me you got sparked?”

Perceptor’s voice was like music to his addled processor. Already, memories were beginning to fade away, leaving his mind gray as his internals began to shut down. Brainstorm smiled up at the mech above him and felt a drop of energon roll from the corner of his mouth. Primus, Perceptor was beautiful.

A strong arm wove its way behind his shoulders and Brainstorm allowed his helm to loll as he was lifted to sit up. Immediately, the energon that had been clogging his intake let loose, washing from his mouth and down his chin like a tide. He managed a ragged breath and tried rebooting his sodden vocalizer. “Per-cy-“

The arm that had lifted him vanished after pushing Brainstorm’s upper body toward Perceptor. The jet cringed for a moment as the sniper’s plating was splattered with his energon. But Perceptor didn’t seem to care as he wrapped Brainstorm in a strong embrace, sitting on the edge of the mediberth. “Slag it, Brainstorm, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uselesssssss- hzzznggg!”

Brainstorm would’ve screamed if it hadn’t been for the charring burn in his vocalizer. When he found his voice no longer available, the scientist sent the other mech a comm. ping. :No use.:

“How was it no use when you could’ve avoided this? When we could’ve done something-” As per usual, Perceptor’s voice was endlessly admonishing. But it had a hoarse quality to it now, like the microscope couldn’t quite get the words out. “You kept this from me and for what?”

A hand moved to the back of Brainstorm’s helm, guiding him to rest his cheek against the sniper’s chest plates. It was easier to vent like this. It allowed the energon to dribble freely from his mouth. The teal mech sighed heavily, only tensing for a moment as another contraction ripped apart his insides. His gestation tank, already ruptured, continued to tear further as his body kept desperately trying to push out the sparkling.

Somewhere above him, Perceptor pressed a soft kiss to his one-time lover’s helm. The action surprised the jet for a moment before Brainstorm reasoned it away. He was a scientist after all. He didn’t believe in meaningless action. :You don’t have to be nice now. Just because I’m going.:

“I’m so sorry, Brainstorm. Primus, I’m so sorry…”

Regret colored the red mech’s field and Brainstorm allowed himself a moment to wonder if things might’ve been different after all. Perhaps Perceptor would’ve come around, would’ve provided the lifesaving transfluid and spark energy that the carrying mech’s body needed so badly. That thought and another wave of agony made Brainstorm shudder.

“Please tell me why you did this to yourself. You know I wouldn’t have left you alone with this, Brainstorm. This may have been a mistake, but we could’ve-“

:Always wanted you. Wanted Quark. No matter. Over soon.: 

Brainstorm felt something wet dripping against his helm. The chest against this cheek shook. He hadn’t meant to upset the sniper. He hadn’t even wanted the sire of his sparkling to know that this was happening. He’d wanted to pass quietly and alone, out of the way-

“Ratchet, there has to be something we can do.”

Peds shifted and the old medic sighed. “There’s nothing to be done at this point. He refuses medication and a transfusion. With his spark and internals the way they are, I doubt a transfusion will help anyway. 

“I can’t take the sparkling out through his abdomen due to his energon pressure and the sparkling’s position. It’s already dead, but trying to remove it at this point would only cause more unnecessary pain for him.” A pause. “I’ll be outside, Perceptor, if either of you need me.”

Brainstorm heard the steps retreating and the door clicking shut across the room. The arms that held him tightened and another gentle kiss landed on the side of the teal mech’s helm. He could almost convince himself that it was real, that Perceptor really cared about him. 

Thank Primus that it would be over soon.

Perceptor cradled the dying mech against his chest as he slowly rocked. Too weak to fight any longer, Brainstorm’s frame relaxed into his embrace. His body was smeared with fluids. Energon continued to trail slowly from his lips, painting his face a ghastly pink. The jet’s body fell still as it gave up trying to birth the sparkling. His field shook before he finally released it to bump against Perceptor’s own.

Love, adoration, acceptance, betrayal, rejection, agony. The emotions in Brainstorm’s field threatened to overwhelm Perceptor and he felt his vocalizer tighten as the orange mech’s field told him everything. “Sweetspark, I wouldn’t have left you alone-“

:Better this way.:

“No. No, it’s not.”

:Sorry, Percy.:

“Me too.”

The spark monitor began to flash, indicating a dipping sparkrate. :I don’t wanna die, Percy. But it can’t be worse than watchin’ forever.:

Perceptor had nothing to say to that. He lowered one hand down to rest against Brainstorm’s swollen belly. It was closest he’d ever get to the sparkling he’d sired, the closest he’d ever come to the happiness that he’s so blatantly ignored was right in front of him. 

He’d taken Brainstorm for granted, just like Quark had. Even as he’d been telling his fellow scientist that Quark didn’t deserve him, he’d been putting the other mech through Pit and back. It didn’t matter how sorry he was. It wouldn’t save his child or his former lover.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Post-mortem removal of a dead sparkling. Not too in detail, but... it shows why Percy is such a mess.

The sniper felt it when the mech in his arms expired.

Brainstorm had stiffened a final time, his vocalizer whining as his body gave one final, desperate, useless push. More energon flowed from his under-dilated valve as he strained and the plating on his abdomen flexed as it tried to bear down. But it was no use.

His lab partner passed away with a sigh, field peaceful and clear.

Ratchet came in upon receiving the notification of Brainstorm’s extinguished spark on his datapad. “I’m sorry, Perceptor. But I think that it’s best if you go now.” The medic’s field was flat, his optics unreadable as he watched Perceptor lay the other mech out on the table. The sniper was unusually gentle as he supported Brainstorm’s neck cables and ensured that the other scientist’s helm didn’t bang against the surface. Ratchet watched as he bent to kiss Brainstorm’s helm gently with a reverence that the medic had never known that the ex-Wrecker was capable of.

He turned pleading optics to Ratchet, lips moving with no sound coming out. “I-I didn’t know. He never- did he really think-“

Ratchet could see that the microscope was bordering on panic as Perceptor’s gaze kept flicking between him and Brainstorm’s graying body. His field was rapidly devolving into chaos, writhing around like it was in physical pain. Quickly, the old medic moved forward and took the distraught scientist by his shoulders. “I don’t know what you two were once. I don’t care. What I do know is that this was completely avoidable.”

Perceptor turned away, unable to bear the look that the medic was giving him. But when he averted his optics, he found them resting on Brainstorm’s limp body. 

The teal mech’s mouth, though gorily smeared with energon, was upturned slightly as the corners, like he was smiling in death. Perceptor remembered briefly the last time he’d kissed those full lips, the way that Brainstorm had laughed when he did. It had been the last time they’d interfaced, the only time they’d merged-

Perceptor had last kissed Brainstorm on the nightcycle that he’d sparked the jet up.

He felt sick and stepped away from his former lover, struggling with himself. “You’re certain that the sparkling had expired already? Before the labor started?”

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out soon enough.”

The medic’s implication wasn’t lost on Perceptor. The microscope felt his tanks turn and his spark pulse faster. “You’re going to...? Even though- even with-“

“Yes, I am. This is the first sparkling known to exist since thousands of years before the war even began. If it had survived, it would’ve been the first to be born for several millions of years.”

The ex-sniper swallowed thickly and looked down. His chest was still lathered with Brainstorm’s drying energon. He’d done this to his lab partner. This was his fault.

“I’m going to help you.”

Even with all of his experience, Ratchet couldn’t conceal the surprised in his field. “You’ll get out of my slagging medbay is what you’re going to do. You’ve done enough-“

“I have to be here for this. I have to see it.”

For a klik or two, Perceptor thought that Ratchet might take a swing at him. But just as soon as the medic’s anger rose, it left him in a resigned sigh. “You don’t need to see this. I would prefer to carry out such a procedure alone. I also want spare Brainstorm the indignity of an audience.”

“This… This is my fault, Ratchet. I wasn’t there when he needed me. I have to be here for this part.”

 

~o0o~

 

Even though Brainstorm couldn’t feel anything anymore, Ratchet was gentle. The old medic took great care in making the incision, drawing a clean rag across the gray protoform as energon wept from the new wound. Perceptor stayed back and watched Ratchet work, his processor far away as he stared down at the jet’s still form.

This was his fault. Perceptor gazed down at the jet’s face between his hands. He had killed this mech.

The microscope looked up when Ratchet appeared beside him at Brainstorm’s helm. Wordlessly, the CMO held out a tightly wrapped bundle. Perceptor took it, felt the weight of it all the way up to his shoulders.

“A femmeling. She likely survived until late this past evening cycle judging by the fluid in her vents-“

But Perceptor wasn’t listening anymore. Yestercycle, he’d been a sire. He hadn’t known that he was, but he had been all the same. His creation had been alive and-

Now, he held his tiny deceased daughter in his two hands, her face covered by the cloth that Ratchet had swaddled her in. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the form in his hands and instead looked up at the medic through barely held back tears. “Frame type?”

Ratchet sighed and moved back down the dead carrier’s form. He gripped the edge of the sheet that covered Brainstorm’s legs and drew the thin cloth up the jet’s frame, allowing it to bellow out and settle over the body on the table. Perceptor watched the pale green shroud settle over the carrier of his sparkling.

“It’s hard to tell. Don't even know her coloring. She was severely underdeveloped due to malnourishment and lack of merging and transfluid-“

“Ratchet.”

Perceptor hated the way his voice shook. He wasn’t a mech that lost control. But with the bundle in his arms and the dead mech in front of him, he couldn’t stop his distress from bleeding into his field.

Moving quickly, Ratchet took the sparkling from the scientist’s hold and laid it on the counter where the sink was. Then, he took hold of the wide-opticed sire and guided him to a chair in the corner. Perhaps more roughly than he meant to, the old medic shoved Perceptor to sit down.

No. No. No, no, no-

The sniper looked up at the other mech with panic in his optics. He hadn’t even known this was happening yestercycle. Now he was a sire of a dead child and the mate of a dead mech. Primus, his spark-

Perceptor shook violently and reached for his chest, feeling it tighten painfully as his spark began to pulse. He heard Ratchet curse softly before the medic disappeared from his line of sight, leaving him with the mounting pain. 

As it got worse, he leant forward and fell out of the chair onto his knees. What had he done? Oh Primus, what had he done? Perceptor stayed on his knees, clutching at his chest as he looked up to where his sparkling lay on the counter. Energon stained the floor around him, flowing to the drain that every medbay room had. Brainstorm’s left hand hung off the side of the berth, barely visible, but undeniably there and gray with death.

Oh Primus- oh Primus-

Ratchet appeared in front of him again, a syringe in his hand. When the red mech heard his voice, he was surprised to find it soft and sympathetic. “Calm down, Percy. I know it hurts. I know you didn’t know and I’m not blaming you. I’m gonna call Chromedome in now, alright? He’s likely feeling his own bond break right now.”

Hardly aware of anything besides the sparkling on the table, Perceptor vaguely sensed it when Ratchet lifted the syringe. “I’m gonna give you a sedative right now to ease the pain-“

“No- no-“

He wanted to feel it. He needed to feel it. Brainstorm had been alone with his agony for who knew how long. He deserved to feel this, for both his lab partner and his sparkling-

But Ratchet was already pushing the needle between Perceptor’s plates, aiming perfectly to hilt it in the microscope’s main fuel line. After compressing the plunger, the medic pressed a gauze pad to the red mech’s throat cables. As he guided Perceptor back against the wall, his voice was quiet, his field comforting. “Easy now. Things will be better when you come around.”

Perceptor didn’t even glance at the medic, his fading optics fixed on the sparkling on the counter.

In Ratchet’s rush to get the sedative from the cabinets above, part of the wrapping had fallen away. From the floor, Perceptor could see a hand falling out of the bundle, limp and so, so tiny. It was the last thing he saw before darkness consumed him.


	20. Chapter 20

_They put Rung through the airlock first._

_Megatron, the ship’s sole captain, ordered that they dispose of the three bodies via shooting them out of the airlock and into space. Though no one had seen the act as being appropriate or respectful, no one dared stand up to the ex-warlord now. Perhaps they were still in too much shock._

_Drift still hadn’t appeared since Rodimus passed away in sparkling emergence. The swordsmech had hidden himself so well that even Perceptor wouldn’t have been able to find him. But the ex-sniper hadn’t looked. He had work to do._

_Perceptor could hear the airlock being triggered open and closed from his lab. He heard it open twice. Once for Rung, once for Rodimus and his unborn sparkling.  
The scientist tried to ignore the sound and instead focused on an invention that he’d uncovered in Brainstorm’s quarters._

_After the jet had been cleaned and the sparkling hidden away, Perceptor had recovered enough to take direction rom Ratchet. Cool as ever, the old medic had told him to go to Brainstorm’s hab and remove any evidence that a sparkling had been present at all. In a daze, Perceptor had gone, his mind numbed through careful practice, and collected everything that he could find that would give any clue to his lab partner’s previous condition._

_The microscope turned one such confiscated item in his fingers, studying it carefully. It appeared to be a false spike, fashioned out of a rubber-coated syringe and plunger. From what he could tell, it had would have been used to deposit a kind of engineered transfluid directly into the carrying mech’s gestation chamber._

_Genius._

_After some rooting around, Preceptor had even managed to find the formula for the faux fluid that the jet had been using. With some tweaking, the red mech wondered if he could possibly translate the engineered transfluid into something more effective-_

_“They’re gone.”_

_Perceptor hid his flinch well. He hadn’t heard Drift come in. “I know. I heard the airlock.”_

_The ex-sniper listened as the other mech’s pedsteps crossed the lab toward him. Perceptor wasn’t afraid of Drift, he had no reason to be. But he also wasn’t certain of what the white speedster’s mental state was at this point._

_Slipping the false spike under the cloth alongside the time case, the scientist turned to face his visitor. “How are you?”_

_“I’m not okay.” By the deep impressions under Drift’s optics, the mech hadn’t fueled or recharged in some time. Perceptor felt a pang of sorrow at the once proud swordsmech’s hunched state, the way he seemed to curl in on himself where he stood. The breaking of an amica bond was said to be one of the most agonizing experiences to survive._

_The white mech blinked slowly, indicating an obvious delay in his processor. “How about you, Perce?”_

_“I’m doing well, considering.” He was not doing well. “You should refuel while you’re here.” He should take his own advice._

_Drift considered for a moment before looking past the microscope to the cloth-covered workbench. “How’s it coming?”_

_Unwilling to answer, Perceptor considered briefly asking the swordsmech to leave. He didn’t want anyone else to know about his work on the time case. With Rodimus’ death, only Ratchet, Drift and Chromedome knew about it. Rewind probably knew too and Rung had likely figured it out before he’d…_

_The scientist couldn’t lie to the mech in front of him. Primus, he hadn’t been able to lie to himself for a long time. Drift’s optics were empty as they stared at the time case’s silhouette, like he couldn’t feel anything at all anymore. It was the same look that Chromedome had gotten in his optics right after they’d put Brainstorm out the airlock._

_Perceptor wasn’t one to comfort. He was a mech of science, of logic. But those things had seemed to matter less and less as time went on and his crewmates passed away one by one. The sniper only paused a moment before reaching out and resting his hand on Drift’s shoulder. “It’s coming along well. It should be finished by tomorrow’s nightcycle.”_

_Drift’s gaze didn’t waver from the workbench. “Do you think I’ll remember this? Losing Roddy?”_

_“You won’t remember any of this. Only I will.”_

_Perceptor didn’t bother to explain the science to the other mech. In his bid to get it up and running, the scientist had altered several aspects of it, including that he would be the only one who remembered this timeline. He’d also made sure to carefully calibrate it so that a parallel universe wouldn’t form. There would be only one Perceptor and only his processor would remember it all._

_The white mech’s optics were dim as he lifted them back to the ex-sniper. “Good. That’s good.”_

_As Drift pulled away, Perceptor sensed something in his field that made him grip the swordsmech’s shoulder tightly, making the TIC stop. “Drift. Don’t do anything stupid until I know this will work.”_

_“Don’t worry about me, Percy. I’ll be okay.”_

_But as Perceptor watched the other mech leave his lab on silent peds, he knew that Drift would not be fine unless he finished the time case. ___


	21. Chapter 21

“Do you have all of it?” Perceptor lifted the box, staying silent as Ratchet studied the contents. 

He’d nearly torn Brainstorm’s hab apart searching for anything that would indicate the presence of a sparkling. As he’d gone through, he’d found several personal items of Brainstorm’s, including pictures from Kimia and one or two of Perceptor and the scientist together. Those pictures in particular were kept in the berthside table, hidden under several miscellaneous items. The false spike, remaining faux fluid and even the recipe for it were all in the box as well.

Ratchet had just reached to close the box when he stopped. “Is that…?”

Perceptor watched as the medic reached into the box and retrieved a sparktest. 

When he’d found it, he’d been feverishly trying to raid the hab, desperate to escape the space that his former lover once inhabited. Seeing the still blinking light on the one end as it reflected off the washrack wall, Perceptor had gone to investigate and found it behind on of the polish bottles. The microscope had taken it into his hand, had watched the flashing light that indicated the presence of a newspark for several kliks. Then, he’d promptly sat down on the washracks floor and stared at it for the entirety of the morning cycle.

After receiving no answer from the sniper, Ratchet replaced the sparktest in the box and closed the lid. He paused before looking back up at Perceptor’s blank face. “Are you ready?”

Perceptor looked across the room to the incinerator where it was fired up and waiting. He nodded.

The microscope hadn’t wanted to destroy the only evidence of the sparkling that he had left. But Ratchet had insisted on it, telling him to gather everything together before Brainstorm’s habsuite was cleaned and turned over to someone else for use. If anybot ever found out about the sparkling being the cause of Brainstorm’s death…

They had no idea what the crew would do. This was the first sparkling in millions of years, killed because Perceptor had rejected the other mech. True, the microscope hadn’t known of the femmeling’s existence. But there was the chance that the crew wouldn’t see it that way. It was safer for the microscope if all evidence was disposed of.

Ratchet reached into his subspace as they neared the incinerator and Perceptor watched as he pulled the tightly wrapped bundle from within. They’d told the crew that a lab accident had killed Brainstorm, burning his internal components and damaging his processor beyond repair. Ratchet had carefully stitched up the incision in the inventor’s protoform and had covered it with his original plating. The CMO had hidden the femmeling in his medbay, keeping her existence a secret as the crew continued to believe that a tragic accident had killed their scientist. 

“May I… see her?”

Upon seeing the tiny parcel emerge form Ratchet’s subspace, the red mech had felt his throat close. It would be like his child had never existed, like he’d never been a sire at all. It would be like he was never anything to Brainstorm other than a put out lab partner. She was all he had left.

The medic hesitated before finally extending the sparkling’s swaddled form out to him. Starting to tremble, Perceptor sat the box on the floor at the other mech’s peds before reaching and taking the body into his hands.

He wanted to look at her, to hold her, to kiss her little face. She was so light in his palms, but he felt her weight all the way to his spark chamber. He had killed her, just as he’d killed Brainstorm. This was his fault. 

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to lift the cloth from his child’s helm. He knew that he was being a coward for it, that he deserved the pain of seeing his sparkling face-to-face at least one time. Perceptor held her close and watched the glow of the flames dance against the sheet she was wrapped in as the ambulance slid the box into the blaze.

It took several kliks for it to catch, but once it did, Ratchet closed the door over it. He gave the grieving sire privacy and kept his optics on the incinerator door, listening as the fire raged inside, reducing the box and it’s contents to ashes. 

When he was certain that the box had been destroyed, Ratchet turned the dial. Slowly, the flames inside died down until only smoke wafted around within. He pulled open the door and felt the heat rush out to meet him. The old medic checked carefully and, once he was certain that there was nothing left of the box, he turned back to Perceptor. 

He took in the sire as the red mech gazed down at the bundle in his arms. “He loved you.”

“I know he did.”

“You know I don’t think fixing the time case is right.”

“I know.”

“Good luck.”

Perceptor handed his daughter’s body over the Ratchet. This was far more respectful than jettisoning her out of an airlock, forever to float among the stars. The thought of his tiny, lifeless creation, alone in the dark-

The red mech didn’t wait to watch Ratchet place the femmeling in the incinerator. He didn’t look back when he heard the medic close the door, when he heard the dial being turned. Perceptor walked out of the room and didn’t look back.


	22. Chapter 22

_Perceptor stepped back, his body shaking with both fatigue and excitement._

_It was done. It was finally done._

_Perceptor felt every emotion as he stood before his work bench staring down at his work. On Earth, it would’ve been the equivalent of over a year since he’d held Brainstorm in his arms. He hadn’t seen the bridge but for a handful of times, he’d been to Swerve’s maybe once an Earth-month. The scientist had worked tirelessly to get the time case up and running. Now, as the nightcycle bore down on him, it hummed on his work bench, glowing slightly with the charge it held._

_Over his shoulder stood Chromedome, Rewind, Ratchet and Drift, all watching as the microscope stared down at the completed briefcase on the workbench. Drift’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Is it… really done?”_

_“Yes. Yes it is.”_

_Behind him, he heard the swordsmech side and a telltale clank of metal as Drift was pulled into his conjunx’s embrace. Ratchet continued to sooth his mate as Chromedome stepped forward from behind. “Drift says we won’t remember. Is that true?”_

_Perceptor turned to the gathered mechs then, his optics straining under the ache that had settled into his processor. “I have calibrated the time case so that I will be the only one that remembers. There is also no risk of a parallel universe forming as a result of the machine being activated.”_

_“You’re certain?” Ratchet looked up from where he’d encased Drift in his arms, his field rippling with nervous energy._

_“I am used to conducting several tests to ensure the safety and accuracy of my experiments. In this case, I was unable. But I have every reason to believe that the time case will be effective.”_

_“What if it’s not though?” Drift sit up from where he’d slumped against the medic’s chest, his optics wild with desperation. “What if it doesn’t work?”_

_“It will work.”_

_“But-“_

_“It will work. It has to.”_

_The five mechs paused, all of them los tin their own thoughts. Drift’s question was valid. What would he do if the time case didn’t work? What if they were really stuff here with Megatron as captain? With Rung dead and Rodimus too? What if he had to live with what he done to Brainstorm?_

_A ruckus outside the lab had every mech present looking up at the door. No one had time to react as the door was kicked off of its slides and inward, crashing to the floor with a deafening thud. Torn from the wall, a cloud of smoke rose from the torn wiring, shrouding the towering mech who entered in ghastly light._

_Even though Perceptor couldn’t see the newcomer’s face, there was no mistaking the red optics that penetrated through the hazy smoke. ___

__Megatron._ _


	23. Chapter 23

_Chromedome shifted to stand in front of his conjunx, his visor flashing. “Megatron.”_

_The silver mech advanced into the room, his mouth split wide in a hideous grin. “I’m told of a meeting here involving a time case? One such as our esteemed Brainstorm once created?”_

_At the first sound in the hallway, Perceptor had flipped the cloth down over the time case, hiding it from view. As Megatron came further into the lab, his gaze rested on the work bench, like there was no cloth there at all. Before he got any closer, the scientist moved to step forward… but found himself being stopped._

_A hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him back. Ratchet came into view then, shoving the ex-sniper behind himself. A single look kept the scientist from contesting the medic. “There is no such thing here, captain, and you have damaged private property. Drift’s property.”_

_Beside Ratchet, Drift hissed a warning through his denta, showing his fangs at the oncoming warlord. But Megatron showed no interest in the medic or the swordsmech. His optics were on Perceptor, pinning the red mech in place. The scientist found himself unable to move as Megatron stared him down; only Ratchet and Drift stood between them now._

_“Is it true, scientist? You have acquired a functioning time case?”_

_Perceptor didn’t look away. “Yes.”_

_“And what are your plans for it?”_

_“I’m going to save Brainstorm.” There was no use lying._

_His answer seemed to stun the silver mech whose optics widened slightly. “Is that so? And who gave you permission to do such a thing?”_

_There was no turning back now. Drift and Ratchet had positioned themselves in front of Perceptor, shielding both him and the time case from the warlord. Chromedome stood to Megatron’s left, keeping himself in front of Rewind’s far smaller frame._

_The scientist looked straight into the silver mech’s optics and spoke in a strong voice. “My captain gave me permission.”_

_“Oh? I did not do such a thing.”_

_Though Megatron took a moment to chuckle, Perceptor’s next words stole the laugh right from his vocalizer. “My captain, Megatron. Rodimus Prime.”_

_No one moved as the ex-warlord studied the assembled mechs in the lab, taking in his options as he scanned the room. Seeming to make a decision, Megatron gathered himself up to his full height. “Give the time case to me.”_

_The scientist didn’t move and watched the taller mech’s optics flash. “I cannot.”_

_“I remind you that insubordination is punishable with-“_

_“You were placed aboard this ship illegally by Optimus Prime. This is a private vessel. He did not have the power to make you a captain here.”_

_The silver warlord smiled venomously, his patience clearly wearing thin. Perceptor hated that he would be there to see it run out. “Your captain, if you would call him that, is long dead and gone. His orders are rendered null.”_

_“Then until Ultra Magnus tells me to cease my activities, I won’t.” The ex-sniper fixed the other mech with a blank stare, not quite daring Megatron to act, but not deterring him from it either._

_Megatron’s optics glistened wickedly and his smile widened further, pulling back from needle-sharp denta. “I suppose that’s it then, is it? You would ignore direct orders from your captain.”_

_“No. I would not.” Perceptor moved backward until his elbow joints bumped the edge of his work bench. He felt the time case’s corner dig into his spinal strut. “But I do not see my captain anywhere.”_

_When the silver mech roared and swung his fist, it was in slow motion. Perceptor had seen it coming but Megatron moved almost faster than he could see. Ratchet hadn’t stood a chance._

_Megatron’s fist collided with the medic’s helm, crushing his left audial. Following an angry screech, Drift drew both of his swords from their scabbards and launched himself toward the warlord. The silver mech barely released Ratchet in time before the swordsmech was upon him, slashing violently with his blades._

_Perceptor felt energon splatter his face as one of the white speedster’s swords connected and withdrew, sending droplets of magenta in every direction. The microscope turned to his workbench, his field assaulted by feelings of pain, fear and rage coming off the other mechs in the lab. He was just reaching for the time case when a scream nearly reduced his auditory sensors to static._

_Megatron had caught ahold of Rewind, his huge hand easy crushing the minibot’s throat before anyone could stop him. Shaking the archivist roughly before tossing him aside, the silver mech had no trouble catching Chromedome’s shaking form-_

_Twisting his wrist until it cracked-_

_Drift hacking at the bigger mech’s armor, drawing energon from his plating in rivers-_

_The former gladiator barely slowed down-_

_A hand touched Perceptor’s ped. He looked down._

_Ratchet was looking up at him blurrily, one optic shattered from where Megatron’s fist had crumpled the side of his helm. Despite the horrible amount of agony he must be in with such an injury, the CMO was staring up at him with a steady field. Beyond him, Perceptor could hear Chromedome crying and rocking over the limp form of his conjunx Then there was the awful sound as one of Drift’s merciless swings was finally countered and the swordsmech’s body was flipped and he thudded to the floor._

_Perceptor looked up in time to see the fearsome warlord, dripping with his own energon, leaning over Drift’s prone form, digging a large ped into the back of his neck. The swordsmech barely struggled as Megatron used a hand to shove his face against the floor. “You never escaped who you were in your spark. You never escaped me; even your precious medic knows that. Your amica, pathetic as he was… even he knew about the monster in your spark.”_

_With the mention of Rodimus, all of the remaining fight drained from Drift’s optics. “Roddy…”_

_Megatron pushed down with his ped. Perceptor looked away, back down at Ratchet._

_The ambulance didn’t look back, even when there was an audible crack. He kept his single optic on Perceptor as the warlord stepped off of the still speedster and came up behind him. Ratchet’s optic flickered briefly; no doubt his spark was suffering with his freshly broken bond. “Do it. Do it now.”_

_Perceptor looked down at his hands. The time case glowed ethereally in the dimly lit, energon-smeared lab. All he had to do was activate it-_

_Ratchet rose to his peds just as the warlord turned on Perceptor, swinging his heavily-enforced frame around to slam into Megatron. The microscope began the sequence to activate the time case, his deft fingers quickly going through the motions that he’d memorized in his helm every cycle for what felt like an eternity._

_As his hand hovered over the final key that he’d created, a sickening crunch sounded from in front of him. He made the mistake of glancing up._

_The medic was no fighter and he was no match for Megatron. Perceptor watched, feeling sick, as Ratchet’s remaining optic dimmed to black. The warlord also watched the fear fade from the white mech’s face before he dropped Ratchet. The ambulance was left to fall to the floor, landing beside his fallen conjunx._

_Perceptor finished the code and felt himself jolted on his peds. The room shifted sideways and his senses began to fade away. Pain overtook his spark as it began to whirl too quickly, threatening to break through his very chest plates. But through it all, the scientist never lost sight of Megatron’s optics._

_The warlord stood over the bodies as the rest of the room began to fade. His optics burned with furious hate as he moved toward Perceptor in slow motion, arm extended as he reached for the time case. Perceptor gasped and shook as he saw the bodies of Drift and Ratchet disintegrate through the floor, vanishing into swirling dust along with his lab. Gradually, Chromedome’s sobs faded away as did he and Rewind’s slight, twisted body across the lab._

_As darkness closed around them, it tunneled down until only the silver mech’s optics wavered before Perceptor’s face. A klik later they were gone too, leaving the microscope floating in infinite nothingness. ___

__Perceptor woke up._ _


	24. Chapter 24

Perceptor blinked slowly, recognizing the ceiling of his habsuite. He hummed a yawn, lazily checking for any warnings on his HUD before stretching his limbs. Soon, he would go down to the lab and begin the cycle again. Perhaps today he would finish the time case. Maybe today he would see Brainstorm again and make things right. 

As the scientist kicked his peds over the side of the berth, he decided to skip his morning refuel. The sooner he got to the lab, the sooner he could finish connecting those wires. Maybe Drift would bring fuel or-

Drift.

The ex-sniper paused from actually standing up. Why did the thought of Drift make him afraid? Perceptor squinted into the darkness of his hab. Actually…why had he moved back to his habsuite?

Since beginning his dedicated work on the time case, Perceptor had slept in his lab on a cot. He hadn’t used his habsuite in a long time-  
Perceptor checked his HUD again, fully awake now.

Primus.

Drift had died making sure he could make it back. So had Ratchet. They’d believed in his ability to fix the time case enough that they’d died to give him a chance to use it. And Chromedome. Chromedome had watched his mate die horribly. Rewind’s throat had been caught in Megatron’s fist-

The date on his HUD.

It had worked.

The scientist was on his peds in an instant, flying across his berthroom toward the door. It was the middle of the nightcycle, but he didn’t care. He had to see him face-to-face. He had to be sure-

“Percy?”

The red mech froze in his tracks. That voice. Oh Primus on high and Pit below, that voice…

Perceptor turned right, narrowing his optics against the brightness that was the only light in the habsuite. The sight of the mech stepping out of his washracks, still dripping with solvent, caused the microscope’s fans to stall and his optics to reboot.

_Brainstorm. ___

__The jet was rubbing a hand across one of his hazy golden optics, sighing a yawn as he studied Perceptor. His field reached out to tentatively poke at the other scientist’s as he dragged a towel across his plating. “Percy? Something wrong?”_ _

__But Perceptor couldn’t speak, couldn’t move as he took in the mech coming toward him. The inventor was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen as he licked his full lips and he blinked at the red mech in confusion. It was only when worry began to enter Brainstorm’s field that Perceptor found himself able to reboot his vocalizer. “You- you’re here.”_ _

__“Um, yeah… I’m staying tonight. Remember?” When the microscope didn’t answer, Brainstorm’s optics widened slightly and he hurried to wipe off the rest of the solvent clinging to his plating. He mumbled in distress when he caught sight of the mess he’d made of the floor, nearly slipping as he scrambled to finish drying himself off. “Yeah, you know what, my bad. I’m just gonna head out now. See you in the lab, right? What am I saying, of course-“_ _

__“Just slagging shut up-“_ _

__As Brainstorm had been panicking and about to push past the other mech and out of the hab, Perceptor had been striding toward him. The ex-sniper met the other mech in the middle, gripping him by the shoulders. Without a second thought, Perceptor pressed his mouth against the jet’s, hungry in a way that he couldn’t quite explain._ _

__Primus, Brainstorm still tasted the same as he had that nightcycle in the bar, the last time Percetor had ever kissed him. He still smelled like smoke and failed experiments, like the lab clung to him wherever they were. His lips were still warm and soft, like they’d never known screams of pain and purged energon-_ _

__When he finally pulled away, the red scientist kept his hands on the other mech’s shoulders like he was afraid that Brainstorm would vanish before his optics. Perceptor felt weak as he looked at his lab partner. The last time he’d seen him, he’d been dead, gone, covered in energon and his sparkling had lain dead on the table nearby and, Primus help him, they’d thrown him out the airlock-_ _

__“Perceptor? Um. You don’t look so good...”_ _

__It took the red mech several kliks to realize that he was shaking all over and panting, unable to take his optic off of Brainstorm’s face for fear of the other mech fading away._ _

__Then it hit him. The trembling mech gripped the other in an even tighter hold. “Brainstorm- Brainstorm what did we do?”_ _

__“W-What?”_ _

__“Did we merge?”_ _

__Brainstorm tried to step back and away, his cheeks blushing slightly under his over-bright optics. “Primus, no! We- why would we merge?”_ _

__“Did we interface then?”_ _

__This time, the jet looked away. “No. We didn’t do that either.”_ _

__Perceptor tried to catch the other mech’s downturned optics, pushing against Brainstorm with his field. “Are you sure? Have we been drunk? What about-“_ _

__“Fraggit, Percy! I think I’d know if my seals had been broken!”_ _

__The microscope froze, even his field going still. “You’re… sealed?”_ _

__“Yes. I’m still sealed. Obviosuly, you’re fine, so I’m gonna go now, I’ll see you in the lab tomorrow-“_ _

__“Just. Wait a klik. Alright?”_ _

__Brainstorm was sealed. The sniper checked his HUD again, quickly calculating the timeline in his helm. He and the other mech had had their first frag not too long after the Lost Light left Cybertron. They’d both been drunk from the party at Swerev’s. If nothing had changed between the other timeline and now, then that meant…_ _

__The red mech felt his spark plummet to his peds and he gazed at the blushing mech across from himself. He had taken Brainstorm’s seals and he hadn’t even known it. Oh, Primus. He’d been drunk and rough and- and-_ _

__“Percy, I think you need to sit down. What’s up? Did you get into some bad fuel or something? Listen, I should probably go back to my hab. Give you some space and-”  
“Brainstorm, what happened this past evening?”_ _

__“Percy, you don’t-“_ _

__“I need you to tell me why you’re staying over. If we didn’t interface or anything… why did you stay here?”_ _

__Brainstorm looked down again, his golden optics flashing with obvious nervousness. “There was an accident in the lab. You vented some chemicals yestercycle and Ratchet wanted to make you stay in the medbay-“_ _

__Perceptor remembered that nightcycle. He’d had a vent-full of fumes hit him in the face, causing no small amount of disorientation. Brainstorm had gotten hit as well, but not as severely; his plating had been stained a neon green. That explained the shower he’d been taking just now. Rachet had tried to make the red mech stay in the medbay, but had relented when Brainstorm offered to stay with him at his hab all nightcycle._ _

__The microscope had been less than thrilled to have his lab partner babysitting him at the time. But now he knew why. Brainstorm wasn’t being nosy or ridiculous. The teal jet cared and wanted to make sure that he was okay._ _

__“I… yes. I remember now.”_ _

__The next nightcycle had been the party at Swerve’s, the first time they’d ever interfaced. Perceptor began to tremble again at the memory of that night, as blurry as it was…_ _

__“So if you remember everything and feel better, I’ll head out and tell Ratchet you’re fine.”_ _

__As the inventor turned away, Perceptor couldn’t stop himself from reaching out again. Brainstorm jumped when their plating met and the sniper pulled back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be forceful. Brainstorm… had we never kissed before just now?”_ _

__The jet’s cheeks flooded again with energon, answering his lab partner’s question before he’d even whispered. “Uh, no. No. That was new.”_ _

__Primus. He’d just gotten here to fix things and he’d already…. Slag._ _

__“Brainstorm, could we talk?”_ _

__“Sorry, but why? I’m not mad you kissed me, just kinda wish I’d had some warning, you know? So I could kiss back?” The other scientist laughed nervously before catching sight of Perceptor’s blank face. “I mean, yeah sure we can talk, it’s cool-“_ _

__“Can I kiss you again? Right now?”_ _

__The teal mech’s mouth and optics opened and closed a few times, his cheeks coloring even more as he tried to decide if Perceptor was joking. “I mean… yes. Yes, please.”_ _

__Perceptor came forward without hesitating, pressing his mouth to the other mech’s firmly. Even though it took him a klik or two to get himself together, Brainstorm kissed him back, placing a hand lightly on the sniper’s chest. Perceptor moved his hands up to cradle his lab partner’s face as he deepened the kiss._ _

__This mech had been dead. Brainstorm had died in his arms, had given his last vent against the microscope’s plating. Somehow, Perceptor had managed to get another chance to change everything-_ _

__Brainstorm moaned quietly when the other scientist flicked his glossa against his lips and the sound sent a jolt of heat straight to Perceptor’s interface array. Immediately, he stepped back, leaving the teal jet to stumble after his lips, confusion flickering through his field. “Wha?”_ _

__“We need to talk before anything else happens. Anything we might regret.”_ _

__“Oh. Okay.”_ _

__The red mech looked over his shoulder, back to his berthroom. “Do you… want to stay the nightcycle?”_ _

__The offer made Brainstorm’s optics glow a little brighter, even though the inventor tried to hide his excitement from his field. “Sure. Sounds good to me.”_ _

__~o0o~_ _

__As they settled down in Perceptor's berth, the microscope had to force himself from reaching out and touching Brainstorm to make sure he was really there. Despite the overwhelming urge to hold Brainstorm and never left go, Perceptor knew that he would have to take things slowly. He was the only one who knew what could happen, how terribly things could go wrong if he didn't pay attention. He listened as the inventor's rapid, nervous vents gradually evened out into gentle gusts._ _

__Perceptor didn't expect tot get any recharge as he lay awake in his berth. He was content to watch the other mech rest, listening as his lab partner vented and sighed with dreams. After what had happened before, it was obvious that Brainstorm cared deeply for him. As Perceptor lay awake that nightcycle, he decided that the least he could do was give this a shot._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome :)


End file.
